Something About Fate
by thehee
Summary: Grimmjow was interested in the substitute soul reaper. He had a fire burning within him that could simply be summed up in one word: addicting. Now the question was, how was he going to seal that fire up and keep it to himself? [AU, GrimmIchi, yaoi]
1. Take What's Yours

**It's been way too long since I've written, so I got carried away! It might be lengthy, I am not entirely sure. First time posting anything smutty.**

**Oh, and my plan for this story is to have many parts with other pairings as well, focus being GrimmIchi, of course. But, yes, I plan to have more. Warnings: Smut. Mature things, fowl mouths. Dubcon. Word count: 4,823**

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Grimmjow's eyes slowly moved across the dark cemented ground. He was watching his prey. No. Not watching. He was _stalking_ his prey. That was how hollows did this sort of thing anyway.

Currently said prey was sporting a thick, electric blue scarf around his neck that happened to cover his lips. It nearly had the arrancar in stitches with how similar that shade of blue was to the hair on top of his head. His hands were inside of his jeans' pockets. Tight jeans, Grimmjow might add.

How the teen's hands even had space to fit in there was out of his realm of comprehension.

It looked like his left hand was fumbling with something inside of the pocket. The arrancar didn't have a good view. He was perched on top of a building in front of Ichigo's house. He wanted to move closer to see his prey in a better light. Night sucked, and the dim light radiating from the street lamp was not helping. Moving would blow his cover. Not only that, it would ruin the element of surprise so he kept still.

Ichigo had no idea he was there.

Grimmjow was happy he had mastered the art of suppressing his reiatsu or he was sure the kid would be on his ass right now. Which was not in the plan. No, the plan was quite the opposite.

"Crap, I knew it."

The voice pierced the cool night air as the prey finally revealed what contents were inside of his pocket. He slammed the badge against his chest to push out into his shinigami form. Hurriedly looking around with a wary expression, he dragged his living form to a set of nicely-trimmed shrubs.

"Never can get any peace and quiet around here," the teen groaned.

A fine, blue eyebrow rose. Had he been detected? How? The teen was shit at feeling spiritual pressure unless it was literally pounding him down into the ground.

_Pounding._

What a nice thought… But not now Grimmjow!

Looking around, the arrancar focused on feeling out any other presence in the vicinity. Fuck, soul reapers. That was not in the plan! Not like they knew his plan, but he wasn't ready to deal with those idiots at the moment. He was so close to snatching his berry and now those fucks had to ruin all of the fun.

He shifted his body underneath a dark shadow.

Grimmjow kept an eye on the teen below.

"What's going on? You send out a signal, but everything's fine!" Ichigo shouted. His eyes were raised to the sky. Two forms appeared. Rukia and Renji stood above the purple horizon. The large redhead had a smirk on his lips while the midget stared as cold as an iceberg in the middle of the Arctic Circle. What was their deal? Seriously, Grimmjow was getting just as pissed as the prey below.

"Everything is not fine." Rukia barked in that deep voice of hers. She was rather intimidating for a midget. Somehow, it suited her.

"Yea, Ichi, it's not. Ya know why?"

"Of course I know why, that's why I was asking why, you idiot! No, I don't know why!"

"Lower your voices, you two, we're not alone." The woman continued as she hit Renji's arm. "Didn't you feel it, Ichigo? We were sent to patrol and we immediately felt it."

"What are you—" his voice got lower. It filled with concern as the frustrated red wiped away from his cheeks. When had he gotten red? Grimmjow wasn't sure. The arrancar's eyes were continuously doing ping-pong between the people. "What are you saying, we're not alone? I wasn't alone?" Ichigo scanned the area. His eyebrows furrowed coming up with nothing.

"There was an arrancar, Ich, and actually…" Renji spoke with a thumb jutting over his shoulder.

"An espada, Ichigo. They were here for awhile… But now, it seems they are gone." Rukia cut in. Her fingers gripped the hilt of her zanpakuto settled on her hip. The response was instinctive from what Grimmjow could tell. She was talking about the enemy after all.

The teen was quiet for a couple of seconds.

He was probably wracking his brain for an answer, but it was clear he hadn't detected an espada within Karakura. Neither had Grimmjow. The arrancar knew they couldn't be referring to him since he was still there. But what was another espada doing here? Hell, Grimmjow wasn't even supposed to be there, but like he cared what Aizen thought. The Sexta would find an excuse to fit his lord's scheme of things.

"What should we do?" The teen finally spoke.

"Renji and I are going to continue to patrol the area. We'll make sure everything is okay, if not we will relay a message back to the Seireitei. We want you on guard. Don't revert back to your living form until we give you an order. Got it?" Rukia questioned. The woman curled her lips into a frown as she stared at Ichigo. She was being stern, but it would drive the point across.

"Got it. And hey, you could've given me a heads up! I wouldn't have had to throw myself in the bushes," he muttered while he struggled to pull his body out.

The older redhead started to laugh along with the midget. "But where's the fun in that, Ich?" He teased while holding his sides.

"Oh shut up!"

And then they were gone. Ichigo was alone again. He was dusting some dirt off his unconscious body's shirt. His fingers ran over the soft fabric of the scarf until he took it off completely and wrapped it around his shinigami form.

_Dammit, this is taking too long._ Grimmjow growled under his breath. A little too loud because he could see the shiver that ran down Ichigo's spine. He almost felt it. Almost _tasted _it.

"Who's there?" Ichigo stood to his feet and looked over his shoulder. His body was tense, but his voice was loud. The teen was standing his ground.

It gave the arrancar a nice view of the teen's perky rear. The shinigami garb wasn't that flattering, but Ichigo's body worked with it. The material was wrapped against him in all of the right ways. It showed the slight narrow of his waist, which led to sturdy hips and then that cute curve of his ass. The teen wasn't built, but he was toned. Grimmjow preferred him that way. He was not interested in finding someone shaped like himself, he wanted other things. Things like nice, long legs. Ichigo had those. He wanted toned arms. Ones hard enough to throw a good punch, but soft enough to rest your head on. Ichigo had those. He wanted big chocolate-colored eyes that possessed a strong fire when in battle. Ichigo had those.

The list could go on forever. Ichigo possessed every single characteristic. The teen was engraved on his mind, eyes burned into his thoughts. Ever since that fight he had with the shinigami not long ago. He had the teen pinned underneath him as he drove his fists against that nicely-shaped face. How he would have loved to drive something entirely different into that teen.

Fuck it. He was done waiting. Within a flash, a static noise erupted and Grimmjow stood before his prey. His sonido was becoming less noticeable, but still producing a fuzzy echo. Whatever. He wanted his prey to know he was here.

Brown eyes widened and skinny fingers clutched the zanpakuto, the teen shifted into a fighting stance. "It was you? This whole time?!" He shouted, voice laced with irritation. "How long?!"

A snort released from the arrancar, eyes rolling at the shinigami's knowledge, or lack thereof.

"Nah, shinigami, that wasn't me. I have no idea who the fuck that was, but I've been here the whole time and you or yer little friends had no clue—"

The teen bit back a gasp, quickly unsheathing his sword and pointing it toward Grimmjow.

"And before ya even think about fightin' me, Kurosaki, you better think twice 'cause it's a waste of my fuckin' time."

"Waste of your time?" Ichigo's lips wore a grin, baffled at the arrancar's words. "Then why the hell are you here? Because, quite frankly, this is a waste of my goddamn time!"

"Inoue Orihime."

That shut the teen up real quick. Grimmjow knew it would. Ichigo turned into some lame hero whenever his friends were in the slightest bit of danger. It disgusted Grimmjow. Only idiots revealed their weaknesses so blatantly.

"That name mean anythin' to ya? Huh?"

Ichigo glared, eyes practically drilling holes into Grimmjow's skull.

"Ya, that's what I thought. Now that yer shut up, ya gonna put that sword away and let me speak." The air between them grew tense. Seconds slipped into minutes until the teen slid his zanpakuto back to its original spot.

"Continue."

"Good, I'm sure ya know what kind of situation she's in now. I'm in charge of her, along with Ulquiorra. She doesn't even blink an eye without speakin' to us about it. And I'm gettin' sick of her. The fourth might find her interestin', but I sure as hell hate her little whimpers whenever I raise my voice at her." Ichigo vibrated with anger before the arrancar's eyes. Grimmjow could tell it took all of the teen's power not to reach out and rip his head right off of his neck.

_Exciting._

"Enough with tha story-tellin', straight to my point, I'm lookin' for somethin' _fun_. If ya want no one to touch a pretty hair on her head, you'll comply." The image he witnessed pulled a laugh from his lips. Ichigo was crumbling underneath that hero façade.

"What the hell do you want, Grimmjow?"

Oh. So he had remembered his name. That made things way more interesting than Grimmjow had planned. Even if the teen was spitting out his name like it was poison.

"Get yer ass into yer room. Strip down to yer underwear. If yer not ready within the next five minutes, I'll hurt that Inoue girl."

Ichigo's eyes darkened as they lowered to the floor for a moment. He swallowed thickly and turned on his heels. It seemed like he was struggling with something, but Grimmjow didn't care enough to ask. He watched the teen sink into his living form. Against Rukia's command.

Ichigo left without a word, slipping into his home. The arrancar smirked as he headed to the boy's window.

**x x x**

Hands instinctively covered over his crotch. A slight blush was filling those sun-kissed cheeks, lips curled into their trademark scowl. Grimmjow wanted to bark laughter at the teen, but Ichigo threatened him to keep down unless he wanted to face the wrath of his family. The arrancar was not looking for anymore distractions.

"Can you tell me why I have to be naked for this? What're you going to do to me? This is humiliating…" his voice was hushed, but words were harsh. His chocolate eyes were burning with that fire they usually possessed when in battle.

"Would ya rather me do this to Inoue?"

"No, fuck, leave her alone," he whispered. Ichigo's eyes avoided Grimmjow's, picking a spot on the wood floor beneath his feet.

The espada sat on the edge of the teen's bed, leaning back on his arms, hands palming the mattress with his eyes moving up and down Ichigo.

All of those dreams he had did no justice to the sight he was staring at. Ichigo was downright delicious. His softly tanned skin glowed underneath the moonlight that pooled into the bedroom. His biceps were defined because of the tight fists he was making in front of his crotch. His abdomen was tense, budding muscles kissed the smooth surface. Those long legs were straight and together, toned thighs tightly pressed against one another. The teen still wore his boxers and yet he was acting like he was stark naked in front of him.

"On yer knees."

"Now."

Grimmjow's words were cruel. There was no time to waste. Aizen was surely suspicious by now and no way in hell was he going to get pulled back to Las Noches without getting a fix.

"Just tell me why, dammit… Just tell me why." Ichigo's voice wavered a bit. He was losing that fire, succumbing to the terror of the unknown.

Grimmjow growled, nearly reaching out until the shinigami finally lowered to his knees. "'Cause it ain't fun back there, so I sure as hell am gonna have my fun here."

"But why me?"

"Shut the fuck up, Kurosaki, ya got all these questions that I ain't gonna answer," he tugged the boy forward by the shoulder, knees spreading apart to give him room between his legs. Ichigo's breath hitched, his fate dawned on him, Grimmjow could read it in those eyes. The teen struggled underneath his grip, head shaking back and forth, baring his teeth to the mighty arrancar. His hands reached up to grab Grimmjow's knees, trying to push himself out of the iron-tight grip.

Grimmjow snarled and forced him forward to press Ichigo's face into his crotch. "Ya feel how fuckin' hard it is? Yer gonna fuckin' do somethin' about it or I'll make that girl take yer spot." Ichigo tried to yell back, but his noises were muffled. His movement ceased once Orihime was brought up again. Was he going to stop fighting it? Grimmjow sure as hell hoped so.

Softening his grip on the teen's shoulder, Ichigo pulled back, eyes resting on the mattress between Grimmjow's open legs. "I've never—" the words would not pass those lips, but the scarlet red that appeared on his cheeks were his answer. "I-I got no clue what to do. You're not going to be pleased and then Orihime… Please, I'll do anything to keep her safe." The last few words seeped into a whisper.

"Inexperience is hot on ya, Kurosaki. No more talkin', get to work."

Ichigo shook, in what Grimmjow could only guess was disgust. Fingers hesitantly pulled Grimmjow's erection out of the folds of his hakama. The teen took a sharp inhale of breath before he let his red tongue peek out between his supple lips. His hand grasped around the hard base, feeling Grimmjow's wide girth. The arrancar shuddered.

Damn, how he wanted to cum on that exact expression. His brown eyes were widened, tongue slightly pushed out and hand gripping tighter in fear. Grimmjow was big.

And he knew it.

"Hurry up."

Without another command, Ichigo leaned forward. His eyes closed while his tongue timidly swiped over the pulsing head. His eyebrows furrowed at the taste, but pressed on, sliding that wet muscle down the underside of Grimmjow's cock. Grimmjow deeply growled as fingers pushed back the bangs on Ichigo's forehead to get a better look. The teen explored his length with timid strokes of his tongue.

Ichigo slid his open mouth back up to the head and then latched his lips around the tip. Grimmjow could feel him still. The arrancar had none of that, so he forced Ichigo to take more, hand pushing down on the teen's head. The teen groaned around him in protest, but that only turned Grimmjow on more as he felt those soft vibrations. Cerulean eyes opened to feast on the sight of Ichigo sinking down on his cock until he met his threshold, hand gripping the rest. Grimmjow gnawed his bottom lip, the hot mouth felt too damn good.

Grimmjow's breath became ragged. His fingers curled into soft tresses of orange hair, but allowed Ichigo enough movement to explore on his own. He began to suck, the flat of his tongue curling around the underside. Curses tumbled from Grimmjow's lips. It was clear Ichigo was inexperienced, but damn, was he eager. Grimmjow was pleasantly surprised. The teen was wantonly bobbing his head against his lap. Was Ichigo getting into this? _Born slut._

The sound of Grimmjow's grunts escaped into the bedroom along with the sweet wet sounds of Ichigo's sucking. He was so damn close and now the teen was swirling his tongue around the head like he was begging the arrancar to cum. He most likely was, the sooner that happened, the sooner this ordeal was over and done with.

A stronghold pulled the boy back, Ichigo gasped and then snapped his eyes open to shoot Grimmjow an incredulous look.

"Yer gonna make me cum and I ain't near finished with ya." A feral grin spread across Grimmjow's lips when he saw the look in Ichigo's eyes. Those chocolate orbs were staring, but that hint of fear was floating to the top.

He shook his head back and forth, crawling backward on his knees away from the arrancar's lap.

"Ah—Ah—Ah, Kurosaki, yer not goin' anywhere. Well, actually, since I don't wanna break ya…" Yet. He forgot to mention, "I know ya got lube. I'm sure ya jack off with how hard ya are now." His head nodded in the direction of Ichigo's crotch. It was as bright as day how obvious his erection had become. The boxers did no job at trying to hide the bulge underneath.

Ichigo hesitated. Again. For the umpteenth time. "I got no lube but I got hand lotion. Grimmjow, I'm not going to—"

"Not goin' to what? Get it? I'll take ya dry. Or what, give in? Yer body speaks for itself."

"Fuck, Grimmjow, enough's enough. This isn't how humans work," he was getting that fire again. His hands curled into fists as he stood up to his full height. "I'm not going to lay back and give it to you. Neither will Orihime. And by the way, I'll cut your dick off if you even think about touching her like that!"

"Good 'cause I don't, so let me touch ya.'

"No," the teen retorted, the word full of venom. With a huff, Ichigo turned to face the desk. He pulled open the drawer and fetched the small bottle of hand lotion. With a rough throw, the bottle smacked against Grimmjow's chest. "You want that, eh? It's yours, but I am not going to be your bitch, Grimmjow. I'm going to send out a signal to Rukia and Renji and this will be all over."

"Ya say that after you had my dick in yer mouth," the arrancar smirked.

"What?!" The teen's grip shook the drawer. His voice was getting louder, what about his family? Grimmjow pushed the thought aside, popping open the lotion and then coated his fingers in the wet substance.

"Yea, ya could've said that before my dick was in yer mouth, but ya didn't. So why has anythin' changed? Ya were scared then, but not now."

It took a moment for Ichigo to retort back.

Actually, he wasn't saying anything.

The teen was simply staring at Grimmjow's fingers. He shut the drawer. "Nothing's changed… I'm still worried about Orihime. It's just— I don't want to lose it like this. Not to you."

The arrancar snorted.

Stupid humans and their weird sex rituals. Rituals? Rules? Grimmjow wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it was stupid.

"Shut up, Kurosaki. Yer lucky I even care to prepare yer tight, stubborn ass. I'm gonna make ya feel good, trust me, I don't want ya a cryin' mess, nah." His face scrunched up at the thought. "That's not how I roll, and I am sure that ain't how you roll."

"Now shut the fuck up before I get so bored I have to start thinkin' of the Inoue bitch sexually."

That was not going to happen. Grimmjow was annoyed by her. She was too optimistic. The usually oblivious girl had figured out that they weren't allowed to hurt her. She had powers that interested Aizen.

Enough of her.

Ichigo sat on the edge of the bed. He placed distance between them. His eyes were cast down. Grimmjow grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back against the mattress. The bed creaked lowly.

"Grimmjow-"

The teen tried to speak, but Grimmjow silenced him instantly. His lips molded over supple ones. Tongue forcefully pressing inside when Ichigo gasped in surprise. Rough, calloused hands held the teen's face there as he continued to invade the sweet, sweet mouth. His tongue explored. Ichigo was delicious- like a sweet cocoa, a dash of spice and then something entirely Ichigo. A moan rumbled its way into the kiss but Grimmjow wasn't sure who it had escaped from. He didn't care. Rocking his hips against the teen, his hard length pressed on fabric to meet another hard length. Ichigo's body went limp. He did not allow himself to dive into the pleasure.

_Stubborn ass._

Not wasting another second, the espada snatched away that offending fabric. Ichigo's length sprang free and smacked lightly against his pelvis. The teen only allowed a hiss to pass his lips harshly when Grimmjow wrapped his fingers around the hot sex, giving a long stroke all the way to the tip. Thumb ran over the slit to swipe at the dotted precum. The redhead's length throbbed in his grip, _what a slutty kid_. The espada would laugh in his face if he tried to deny his arousal now.

"Told ya, ya wanted it," he husked into the teen's ear, nipping at the earlobe. His wet, lubricated fingers traveled further down south, nudging between two perky ass cheeks. Ichigo's legs weren't tightly squeezed together, but they definitely weren't spread apart.

The boy continued to stay limp.

Grimmjow grunted, not giving two shits. If Ichigo was going to be stubborn then let him be stubborn. It would end up hurting like a bitch, but the teen would be smart enough not to tense up in the future. If he knew what was best for him. Prodding his finger at the tight pink pucker, Grimmjow licked his dried lips. Damn. He wanted to eat him so badly, but time was not on his side tonight. The teen flinched and then tightened up when the first digit slowly entered his virgin hole.

"Jeez- fuck- _relax_," the arrancar urged.

He gave the teen a moment to adjust before he began to thrust his finger in and out of the tight hole. His finger curled causing Ichigo's breath to hitch. They worked their way to a second digit and then a third, spreading the teen's warm insides, walls meshing _oh so perfectly_ around his fingers. His cock twitched. He twisted his wrist to turn the fingers inside of the tight ring of muscles. Somewhere in the preparation, the espada had found the lotion and started to slather up his cock in the stuff. He also managed to tear away his own stupid clothes. They served no purpose right now.

Settling his broad chest on Ichigo's, sandwiching the teen between him and the mattress, the arrancar forced those tantalizing thighs apart. Ichigo bit back a whimper, eyes closing tightly, refusing to meet with Grimmjow's. Ichigo had no idea how sexy he looked- face scrunched, eyebrows knitting, sweat beading on his forehead, teeth digging into a quivering bottom lip. His hands fisted the comforter, his fate looming overhead.

Grimmjow's thick length slid over the tight entrance, teasing it. He could feel the pucker twitch, Ichigo's body betraying him and enjoying the attention Grimmjow was giving it. _Just give in._ There was no reason to fight it. It was going to happen, why not enjoy it? Entertain those desires. Grimmjow was a man who lived on thrill- the thrill of the chase, the thrill of a good battle and the thrill of a really good fuck. The teen needed to pull the stick out of his ass, remove that scowl off his face and just_ live_.

"Ya won't forget this," he husked. Positioning his length, Grimmjow slowly sank inside of the tight heat. The head stretched the ring of muscles, which clamped around his throbbing flesh, enticing him further, practically pulling him in deeper. If Ichigo didn't want it, his _ass_ sure as hell did. He went inch by inch until he was fully seated. The teen threw his head back against the sheets, pain visible on his face, a frustrated red burning on his cheeks. His knuckles were turning as white as the comforter they clutched.

Grimmjow waited.

And waited.

He breathed low and heavy. He could feel his entire body pumping with blood, going straight to his cock. Those tight, velvet walls wrapped around him nice and snug and warm. Inviting him deeper. Ichigo's hole convulsed around the base of his cock, fine blue eyebrows knitting, eyes narrowed to slits while he fought the urge to just fuck the teen into the mattress. If he did that, the teen would never allow himself to enjoy this in the future. Grimmjow wanted him to beg someday. Soon. Preferably.

He eyed tears pricking the sides of Ichigo's shut eyes. It was natural. This was a pain the teen, apparently, didn't want and his body was confusing him to no end, torn between running away and staying put. However, Grimmjow was going to make it a point to get the teen to feel good. He was not into the whole "brutal rape" shit, he wanted his prey mewling and begging for more. There was a hunch that Ichigo wasn't going to comply tonight, but he would some other time. No doubt. Grimmjow would repeat this delicious ordeal until Ichigo cried out his name.

It would also prove to be the worst kind of torture: succumbing to the enemy.

"Move-"

What?

What was that he heard? He almost had to do a double-take before he finally comprehended who said that. Ichigo was telling him to move. And here Grimmjow thought it was going to take a few more encounters until the teen gave in. His lips deviously curled, eyes darkening. A hand slapped over his smirk, covering it from view, as Ichigo glared up at him. His brown eyes glazed over with a mixture of... Want? Desire? _Lust_. And frustration, the teen was always frustrated. That was not new.

Licking against the teen's palm, Grimmjow's hips started to move. He rocked into the teen, creating a steady rhythm. He could have sworn he felt that body rut back against him. He groaned over Ichigo's neck as teeth lightly caressed the skin. He bit down after a sharp, hard thrust forward, pulling a broken whimper from those succulent lips.

He found _it_.

He angled his hips. Grimmjow's thrusts became faster, attacking that pleasure spot. Ichigo's hand moved from the arrancar's face, straight to his back, nails curling into the hard skin. He still kept his moans to himself, but Grimmjow liked seeing the flustered look on the teen- his whole face contorted, teeth dug into a plump bottom lip as he tried to jar away those feelings of ultimate pleasure.

He would have that face burned into his memory from this point on.

The only sounds in the bedroom were that of skin slapping against skin, the bed creaking with each violent thrust and ragged breathing. It felt like the pleasure would never end, Grimmjow was dosed with white hot passion and, by god, he was going to immerse himself in it. His body was chanting him on to fuck Ichigo harder, pull more air from his lungs with the sheer power of his hips, crumble the teen from the inside. Take what was _rightfully_ his.

Paying more attention to Ichigo, the espada wrapped his strong hand around his neglected arousal. He stroked the length in time with brutal thrusts- palm squeezing the end with each jerk upward. He watched the teen's chest shudder, _shit_, he was hot- holding back moans that desperately wanted to be released. How funny would it have been if his family walked in at this very moment? The looks on their faces would be priceless. The thought reminded him of the midget bitch, she'd be back soon to ruin the fun. With a loud growl, the espada hurried his thrusts.

"Cum," his voice was husky and lower than before, still demanding as ever. He didn't have to tell the kid twice because with an arch of his body, Ichigo released his seed onto Grimmjow's hand, some landing on his chest. A few more powerful thrusts into the tight, clenching heat and Grimmjow released his own essence into the teen. Pleasure washed over him like a heavy tide against the shores of a beach, crashing over anything in its wake. With another hard bite on the nape of Ichigo's neck, the espada groaned the word:

"Mine."

Soon he was off the spent teen, tucked away back in his uniform, and opening up a garganta.

"Ya heard me, Kurosaki?" He spoke before entering the black abyss. "Yer mine and if ya even try to fight that, I'll put ya in yer place."

And with that he was gone. Leaving a panting substitute soul reaper to drown in his thoughts.

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**And there it is! Next chapter will most likely be Ichigo's POV. If there are any errors or whatever, please let me know. If you liked it, lemme know. :-)**


	2. Conflicting Desires

**Warnings: Smut, foul language, yaoi, dubcon. **

**Word count: 5495**

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Why had he wanted more?

He felt so weak. The word disgusting couldn't even sum up the feelings he had conjured up about himself.

Ichigo sighed as he turned over to rest on his side. His eyes met with the wall, vivid pictures of Grimmjow's built body pounding into him dancing across the beige surface. Images of the man thrusting, teeth clashing against skin, chest on chest.

He imagined the day he lost his virginity he'd at least be curling up next to his beloved the morning after, nuzzling his nose in soft hair, holding that person as if they were the only other person in the world. But Grimmjow was not that. He held no love for this cold, sadistic arrancar.

_Was he sadistic? _

"Why am I questioning that?!" He groaned, hands digging into his forehead to try and remove the throb of an oncoming headache. The intense throb was foreboding.

It seemed like Grimmjow had actually handled the situation with…_ Care_. The espada had been brutal when given permission, but prior to that he had waited. The espada took the time to let Ichigo adjust, settle into the painful sting. Yeah, the whole ordeal hurt like a bitch, but eventually it had turned into a good kind of hurt— a hurt that spread him from the inside then filled him with complete warmth. It might have been something the teen craved for. He was battling the issue of his sexuality and it seemed the seesaw was leaning toward gay.

Of course, he did not crave it from Grimmjow. Ichigo wasn't interested in any of the men he encountered. Whenever he was alone, the man he pictured was faceless, nameless. The unknown man was sweet, loving, careful with every touch, tending to his every need.

But Ichigo couldn't lie. Grimmjow was one of the sexiest beings to exist. No doubt, but he was the enemy.

You don't sleep with the enemy.

You don't get off on the enemy.

Okay, so he may have been lying when he said he wasn't interested in the men he encountered. There were a select few he would not mind bedding, but why did they have to be complete assholes? Or the enemy? Or worse— a combination of the two!

And now here he was, lying on crumpled, wet sheets with a slight ache in his rear. Alone, he would like to add. Not a virgin anymore. He felt the sting of frustrated tears plague his gaze. Why didn't he fight back? He should have fought back. He was not some whimpering, hopeless damsel in distress. He was fucking Kurosaki Ichigo, the number one protector. But Orihime—

There was no question. He couldn't have fought back. Not if it meant Orihime was going to get the brunt of the ordeal. It was not fair to her. Her first time deserved to be dealt with delicate hands and warm caresses, love surrounding a very loving person. No way was some lowly arrancar going to snatch that from her. Ichigo would see to it she was safe.

If he had to sacrifice himself to Grimmjow, so be it. He was tough and could face it head on. Soon enough they would have Orihime back and the tables would turn. Ichigo just needed to become stronger, learn how to control his powers better before he faced his enemies of Las Noches.

_Enemies of Las Noches_—that was another thing, was Grimmjow's departure unnoticed? Ichigo could remember in full detail the espada being pried away from their last fight. So, where were the watchdogs of Las Noches now? The thought reminded him of Rukia and Renji sensing another espada in the area… Maybe whoever that person was knew Grimmjow was here. Was this part of Aizen's plan?

Fuck the substitute soul reaper into submission—it seemed so low, vile, possibly beneath Aizen— then again Aizen was the lowest of the low.

However, Ichigo, painfully, had to admit a part of him did enjoy the pleasure. He did _not _enjoy Grimmjow, but his body had enjoyed the constant pressure of a thick, throbbing length sliding in and out of him. The teen shivered. Ichigo ruled the reaction as natural— the body was naturally supposed to crumble underneath constant, intimate touching.

_Right? _

His dad was a doctor, but there was no chance in hell he would strike up the courage to ask him. Isshin was too nosy and obnoxiously persistent— he would catch whiff of something suspicious even if Ichigo told him it was a hypothetical situation.

Ruling out any other ideas about the blue-haired devil, Ichigo slid his palm across the nape of his neck. The skin was tingling, a vibrant red pulsing on the smooth area that would surely deepen to a dark purple in the next couple of days. It was one remnant of proof Grimmjow left on him to show he had been taken.

When he thought he had escaped the constant torture of Grimmjow on the brain, he was thrown back in for another round. What was the whole "mine" thing? The asshole said it so confidently too! He had another thing coming if he thought he could get away with something like that again. Ichigo was going to stand up to the arrancar the next time around. He knew Grimmjow would be back, but there would be no repeat of tonight. He was going to keep Orihime safe along with his sanity.

Hopefully.

"Not hopefully!" he exclaimed, fingers tightly curled in his hair. So tight that it started to sting. "Fuck you, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez."

**x x x**

The redhead kept his eyes on the small woman. He waited for her response. Her expression was entirely unreadable. A curled fist was pressed over her chin while she thought. Why the hell was she taking so damn long? He didn't have all night, he needed an answer. He had school the next day and with so much shit on his mind there was no way he would be able to sleep.

"Ichigo, you are an idiot."

"Wha-?!"

"A big idiot! To think I ever doubted your stupidity, it's very clear to me now." Her hand swatted the back of his head producing a loud _owwww _from the male. Rukia stood up from his bed and headed toward his closet.

"Wait! Rukia, I'm serious- don't walk away! I need your help, dammit."

Said woman scoffed, shooing away Ichigo's old clothing with one hand— clothes hitting the ground with light thumps. "You really think we'd let _him_ go undetected? Seriously, Ichigo?" She was offended. Clearly. Turning to look over her shoulder, Rukia narrowed her eyes. Damn. _Did it suddenly get cold in here?_ Ichigo could swear the temperature dropped more than a few degrees. "You said it yourself, Ichigo, you didn't see him and everyone knows how bad you are at detecting anything stronger than you-"

"Stronger than me?! Okay, you are getting ahead of yourself, Rukia. Jeez- just tell me if you felt his reiatsu!"

"No, stupid, it was not Grimmjow." The raven-haired woman shook her head, perching herself on the shelf. "I did not feel his reiatsu. Unless you are hiding something, he was not here as far as I know. Ask Renji if you want. But I think I would know how his reiatsu feels better than you two idiots."

Ichigo knew he was treading rocky waters. The espada was a touchy subject for the raven-haired soul reaper. Her last encounter with him earned her an arm straight through the abdomen. She was thirsty for revenge. The redhead didn't doubt she would be able to tell if Grimmjow was around, she would be the first to know. Her stomach had been pumped with that pressure. So— did that mean the espada was an expert at hiding his reiatsu? The fact was unsettling to say the least.

"I- I have no clue who it was, Ichigo. It wasn't him," her voice softened to a lower baritone. "Whoever it was, they were close- close to you."

So someone from Las Noches did know. How shocking. _Not._ Should he tell Rukia what happened? Dump the entire truth on her and let her deal with it alongside him— no. Ichigo couldn't do that. He was too ashamed of the whole ordeal and wasn't willing to share that shame. It had his stomach in knots, head throbbing persistently, so how would it make Rukia feel? Damn useless. She would blame herself for not protecting her friend. They had been so close— one call away— yet were unable to help him. Ichigo didn't blame them, but knowing how the woman was, she would not hesitate to take the brunt of the burden.

"Ichigo, I want you to know that whatever you are hiding-"

"I am no-!"

"Don't tell me you aren't hiding something, and will you shut up for a second? Whatever you're hiding, it's okay to let me know. If something happened, you can tell me." She laid on her side, facing the back of the closet. "It is a little weird for you to keep things from me, but I am here for you. Whenever, Ichigo."

Ichigo cleared his throat, resting against his mattress. A soft sigh left his body. He pulled the covers up to conceal the mark on his neck. Maybe the mark was a dead giveaway, but he was sure his shirt had covered it. "I understand, Rukia."

"Good. Now get to sleep, kid."

"Yea, night."

"Goodnight."

**x x x**

Ichigo snorted, taking a bite of his sandwich. "So you broke up, eh?"

His ridiculous friend sniffed loudly. The brunette dramatically swung his head to the side to frown at the sky. This caused the redhead to roll his eyes. Keigo was being a big baby for no reason. Wasn't he complaining about the barbaric shinigami a week ago?

Relationships were too irritating for Ichigo. They gave both parties the ability to hurt one another without mercy and left both parties in vulnerable positions. What was the point? Waste of time, waste of money, waste of emotions. Ichigo was a freaking high school student for crying out loud. He had better things to worry about like hollows, espadas and other things that went bump in the night.

"Ikkaku wasn't your type in the first place, Keigo. For one, last time I checked the guy doesn't have boobs. No hair on his head either, so what's the fuss for- Get over it," Ichigo chided. He hovered his sandwich over his head to indicate Ikkaku's baldness. "You're free from his controlling ass, if you ask me."

"Wah, but Ichigo! You don't get it!" The brunette sniffled louder, tossing his lunch against the cement of the rooftop— drama queen. "He was routine, he was familiar. I was getting use to him and then he dumps me!"

"Ruthless," the redhead added sarcastically.

Keigo tried to glare at him, but it looked utterly ridiculous. "He'll regret it. I am going to get really sexy then he'll see what he lost."

Ichigo cringed. _Sexy_— so was he going to go from being a caterpillar to a butterfly? He shrugged. If that was Keigo's plan, Ichigo wasn't going to tell him otherwise.

"You've got your problems and I've got mine." Ichigo settled the sandwich back to his lips.

"Wait, you too, Ich?" Brown eyes widened, practically bulging out of the brunette's head.

"SINCE WHEN?" He cried out in shock as he latched onto Ichigo. Nosy fool.

"Keep it down, will ya! Don't worry about it, it's nothing." He pried Keigo off of him, ignored those puppy dog eyes and finished his lunch. He was not going to deal with this crap. _Why did you even bring it up, Ichigo?_ He nearly smacked himself.

**x x x**

Ichigo groaned. Was everyone against him today? All the teen wanted was to get some rest and Renji had to be hogging up his bed. Throwing his book bag at the redheaded beast, Ichigo jutted his finger in the man's face. "Get off my bed. Get your ass back to Urahara's!"

"Aye, aye- Don't get yer panties in a bunch, Ichi. I came here to escape from that weirdo." Renji faked a pout. "He's always tryna to steal peeks at my phone- Ohp! Speaking of phone-" The redhead grinned widely, shoving the screen of his new phone in the teen's face. "The higher ups upgraded our phones, these got texting, it's confusing as shit, but man, does it stop all those fuckin' awkward silences."

"What do you have to hide? Just go back to Urahara's already, who cares if he sees what the hell you are texting," Ichigo grumbled. He shoved the male aside to make room on the bed. Renji bounced lightly, scooting further, fingers clicking rapidly over the phone's keyboard.

A textbook promptly occupied his lap, studying was a bitch, but failing exams was worse. Renji could stay. If he was shut up, then it was okay. The man gave him enough space to stretch out on his bed, get comfortable and left him to his studying.

Until—

Was the fucker laughing? Knitting orange eyebrows together, Ichigo scowled. "Why the fuck are you laughing?" Had the older redhead gone delusional? The screws in his head must have loosened. Nothing funny had happened.

Renji pushed himself up. "I can show ya what I don't want hat-and-clogs to see."

The teen wore a questioning look. Silence encompassed the moments that passed. Ichigo's eyes widened, grimacing. "On second thought, man… I don't want to know."

"Alright, you don't gotta read 'em, but I will. Out loud." Renji cleared his throat loudly. "_Shit_, Abarai Renji, your cock is so big. Stop teasing with those pictures, you'll drive me crazy, babe. I'm trying to work here."

"Eww- what the fuck, _pictures_? You better not have been taking those pictures in my room."

Silence.

Again.

Uh—

_Ew!_

"Fuck you, Renji! Get out!" Renji burst into laughter. Ichigo swatted him off the bed and proceeded to kick the jerk's side. The fucker was still roaring with laughter!

After a lot of pestering and yelling, the disgusting, no brained redhead finally left. Not without reading a few more absurdly perverted texts. Soul Society certainly didn't upgrade their reapers' phones for creepy sexting. If Ichigo was a rat, he wouldn't hesitate to bring this up with the idiot's captain. Yeah, that would have the redhead pissing in his pants. But he wasn't a rat. Lucky Renji.

Ichigo started to read.

Hours passed, or it felt like hours. The small text blurred together on the page. The boxes and images soon swirled, bleeding into the words. Ichigo's eyelids grew heavy, body swaying forward. He didn't try to fight the sleep that took over him. World quickly fading to black.

**x x x**

"Hey- shinigami, wake up!"

A strong hand gripped the back of his head. Calloused fingers yanked his hair. _What the fuck._ What time was it? How long had he slept? Blinking a few times, the teen shifted and no longer felt his sheets underneath him. When the world prickled back into focus, Ichigo was greeted with dark gray surroundings. He frowned. The front of his body was sprawled on the floor, a chill ran down his spine, throat dry- if he was kidnapped there was no signs of restraints.

A pressure forced him to roll on his back. The movement stole the air from his lungs, his stomach lurching, trying to inhale the crisp, cold air. Smacking his dry lips, Ichigo lifted his vision to the source of the voice. _Fuck._

Fuck indeed.

All he needed to see was electric blue to know who his captor was. He gritted his teeth, baring them to the espada, trying to lift himself up, but coming up with no energy. "The fuck?!" he yelled. He resorted to roaring loudly, trying to get the attention of anyone around, if he was even lucky enough to have others around.

A fist slammed into his cheek, catching the teen off guard, fingers gripped his chin tightly to force his mouth shut, Ichigo still screamed, the sound muffled. "Ya better be quiet, Kurosaki, 'less ya want Aizen on yer ass. He'll gladly take it. He was ready to do much worse, but yer lucky I got amazin' convincin' skills."

Convincing? That sounded unlikely. Aizen was most likely plotting something more devious and just allowing the espada to play with him for awhile. Grimmjow was too brawny to have enough brain to persuade anyone. Ichigo ceased his screaming, chest heaving deeply to breathe in more air, filling his once weak lungs. His heart pounded loudly in his ears, could the espada hear it? If not, he could feel it since his hand moved to his chest, forcing him to stay put.

Mustering up the energy to speak, Ichigo started, "where the hell am I, espada? What the hell did you do to me?"

"Not me, more like the eighth, he dosed you with some reiatsu suppressing shit. Yer like a human— a weak one— in a shinigami body right now. He also gave ya that bracelet," the bluenette nodded his head in the direction of Ichigo's wrist.

Slowly lifting his arm, Ichigo saw the white metal bracelet clasped to his wrist, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a ruby red circle in the middle, maybe it was the lock, Ichigo wasn't sure. He tried pulling the jewelry off, but it wouldn't budge. "What's it for?" He angrily asked.

"Courtesy of Aizen, apparently it's supposed to tie ya between this world and the living one. It'll send ya back home quick, and return ya back here quick. Yer also able to communicate with Aizen, not sure why ya would, but the red button allows ya to, and he can talk to ya if he wants with it too," the espada explained, "but don't ask me about how it does that shit, ask Szayel."

Who was Szayel? Why the hell was this happening to him? It was as if he was marked with some curse. Now he felt like he was truly property of Las Noches, not just Grimmjow. Did they honestly think he would comply with this? Really? There must be some better explanation that Grimmjow wasn't getting at.

_King, how'd ya get yer self into this mess? Yer so fuckin' useless._

"So you speak up now, you asshole?" he growled. Cerulean eyes widened, lips pulled into a scowl while Grimmjow looked at him as if he were on drugs. He was on drugs! Thanks to some eighth character, whoever the hell that was. Was the eighth Szayel? What the hell ever.

"Leave me the fuck alone, I will deal with this on my on and you," he pointed at Grimmjow, "don't give me that look. I'm dealing with something. Get the fuck out of my thoughts, Shiro, or I'll purposely make it hell in there."

No response from the hollow or Grimmjow.

Good.

"Take me to Aizen, I'm done talking to you, Grimmjow, I've got an exam tomorrow and want this crap off me." Ichigo regained enough energy to pull himself into a sitting position. His fingers rubbed over the smooth metal band, would he dare press the button? His nerves were pushing him toward that decision until the espada started laughing in his ear. The espada smacked his back, letting out a loud howl of laughter.

"Like anyone gives a fuck about yer exam, that's what ya gotta say about this whole thing? Yer one funny kid," he grinned, "unpredictable, that's how I like ya." His tone seductive now, lowering, nearing Ichigo, tracing his lips on the back of the teen's neck, licking over the skin. Ichigo hissed, slouching forward to move from the wet appendage.

A hard, heavy weight pressed into his back, broad chest and cut muscles flexing over him, strong arms wrapped around his frame, he swallowed thickly. His body was becoming hotter— it was disgusting how fast it was reacting to the espada.

"Fuck- I want ya, Kurosaki. Yer all I've been thinkin' about and it's barely been a day," Grimmjow husked into his ear, causing the soft hairs to stand, goosebumps tingling on his skin. "Ya want me too, yanno how I know?" A hand palmed over his crotch, squeezing over the fabric of his jeans, feeling out his budding erection, coaxing the length to come to life. "'Cause yer already getting' hard, haven't even done nothin', slut." The espada ground his crotch against Ichigo, allowing him to feel his hard arousal.

Ichigo felt his heart pounding faster, blood rushing down his body to the one area that betrayed him, his thoughts were jumbled in his head. He tried to pick out something comprehensible, finally clutching onto one.

"Not here," he whispered.

"Eh?"

The teen swallowed, although he had no saliva, his mouth was dry as the Sahara. He ground himself back into Grimmjow's hard length, trying not to gag— his mind and body were torn, not agreeing with each other. It elicited a throaty moan from the espada, rutting into Ichigo. His breathing became broken pants, tongue licking over his lips, trying to create moisture. The unwanted desire started to force its way into Ichigo, making him unwillingly shudder.

"S-somewhere else… Not here," he murmured in a shaky tone.

"Want a change of scenery, eh? Like yer thinkin', kid. Where ya wanna go?"

"My room."

Ichigo couldn't see it, but he knew the espada was staring at him with confusion. Probably trying to contemplate Ichigo's plan, but hadn't the espada said the bracelet tied him to the World of the Living and Las Noches? That meant somewhere in Aizen's plan, he was going to allow Ichigo to return home.

A finger played with the ends of his hair on the back of his neck, Grimmjow hummed softly in thought. To further the process, Ichigo rolled his inexperienced hips as best he could, sandwiching the hard crotch against his backside. The espada's breath hitched and then he replied. "Under one condition." He held a single digit in front of Ichigo's lips.

"Anything, _Grimmjow._" Fuck, he felt sick. This fake seduction was arousing the espada further, Ichigo could tell, which caused his own stomach to fill with knots. If he didn't already hate himself, he did now, but this was going to get him back home.

"Yer gonna continue to want it, no holdin' back. Yer gonna give in and lose yerself. And if ya don't, I'll drag yer ass back here."

Fair enough. He'd be home at least.

"Oh, and I lied, not just one condition. Another thing- we ain't fuckin' in yer house. I damn well know that shinigami bitch is stayin' in yer room. We can fuck on the roof and then I'll let ya go home, the bracelet ain't comin' off."

Ichigo slowly nodded.

Didn't he say he would fight back against this arrancar? He convinced himself that the drugs were getting to him— making him feel so weak that he had to find any way out of this situation. But before he knew it, he was back in Karakura.

**x x x**

A soft groan rolled from his wet lips, slipping into the high, dancing with the devil of pleasure. A rational part of his mind knew this was disgusting, downright vile, horribly wrong on so many levels and worth his immediate death, but he wished to be in his bed. He wanted to kiss the soft sheets and be consumed in the warmth of sleep, so he had to obey.

He was on his hands and knees, jeans around his thighs, shirt pushed up, ass up in the air and spread for the entire world to see. Well, if Grimmjow wasn't obstructing the view. The espada was leaning over him, pinching one of his nipples and teasing his entrance with his wet length, sliding it back and forth between his ass cheeks, the shaft throbbing over his puckered hole. His body was too damn sensitive, easily sacrificing itself to the demon that was Grimmjow.

A cold breeze swooped over the roof, causing Ichigo to shiver and press back into Grimmjow's warmth. It was ridiculous they had to do _this_ here. To think his family was merrily sleeping underneath right as he was about to be fucked for the second time in his life.

"Mm- Kurosaki- what would ya do if those shinigami saw ya like this? Out here in the open, happily takin' my cock," the espada rasped, nudging the back of his head with a finely-pointed nose. Ichigo stiffened. That thought had not even crossed his mind and now he was praying to whatever god was out there to make sure it did not happen. He grunted in response, rocking back into the wet length.

Grimmjow snorted, lifting his body from Ichigo's back, grabbing the small vial and slathering his fingers in the substance. It surprised Ichigo that the arrancar had been prepared this time around. He was not going to complain about that, he was very thankful he wouldn't be experiencing dry sex. The teen had already tried masturbating dry and his dick had burned for the entire week, not pleasant, not sexy.

A long digit slowly pressed into him, fighting against his tight walls, curling into his velvet insides. He groaned shallowly, forehead rested on the flat surface of the roof, nails scraping over it to try and clutch at anything. He took a few deep breaths before forcing his body to relax. It was becoming too excited. Ichigo lost himself in the thick haze of pleasure. He hadn't noticed when Grimmjow prodded his entrance with a second digit, not until the espada's fingers spread apart to scissor his tight hole. His hips buckled, arousal throbbing, back arching lower to press his chest on the floor.

No matter how repulsive this was, it was _so_ _damn delicious_, so sinfully wrong in all the right ways. The wet, hot feeling of Grimmjow's fingers fucking him was enough to make him swoon with lust. Fuck the talented espada— and the guy had the nerve to call _Ichigo_ the slut.

Two digits turned into three, his hole relaxing completely, thighs quivering and legs sinking further apart, well, as far as his jeans would allow. He buzzed with pleasure, a silent whimper parting his lips. Ichigo could feel Grimmjow's gaze, it weighed him down, cerulean eyes devouring him.

Grimmjow growled, pulling his fingers from Ichigo's heat, drawing out a low groan from the teen. Almost inaudible, but the espada had pristine hearing. The espada began spreading the lubricant on his cock, hissing at the cold, slippery liquid. Ichigo knew what his fate was, bottom lip quivering, teeth quickly clamped down to endure the initial pain, tensing up.

"Relax," the arrancar commanded— voice raspy. Ichigo felt the wet tip prodding against his entrance, slowly forcing the thick head past the tight ring of muscles. He cried out, the sound cut short as he slammed his mouth shut, not allowing the sounds of pain to be released. Grimmjow spanked his ass cheek roughly, obviously not liking how Ichigo was silencing his noises, but the teen did not give a damn. He wasn't going to sound like a weak bitch in front of this predator.

Inch by inch, Grimmjow filled him to the hilt, heavy sack pressed against him. Ichigo's toes curled within his shoes on their own accord, his knuckles were white, nails digging into the palms of his hands. Strong hands gripped his hips and started to guide them, rocking their bodies back and forth. It was not quite thrusting, but more like grinding, getting their hot bodies closer. Ichigo rested his cheek on the cool surface of the roof, eyes closed tightly, breathing fast and unsteady.

Why wasn't the damn arrancar moving? Fuck, he was driving him crazy, fucker needed to start moving. Ichigo grunted, ramming his hips back into Grimmjow, the espada gripping him harder to keep him immobile. _What the fuck?!_ The redhead growled loudly. He knew what the fucker wanted, oh, yes, he did. He wanted him to beg.

Licking his lips, Ichigo did his best to tighten his walls around the throbbing erection invading his body. Grimmjow released a loud groan, _there we go._ If he was going to act like he wanted it, then he sure as hell was going to be the one in control. He lifted his head to look over his shoulder, making his eyelashes hang low over his vision, pursing his plush lips and then squeezing his muscles around the base of Grimmjow's cock.

It looked as if the espada was ready to spank him again, but decided against it. Instead, he pulled his hips back, that thick rod sliding all the back with only the head still inside of Ichigo. Then with a powerful snap of his hips, Grimmjow began his brutal pounding, pumping Ichigo's body with his huge length. The friction was so good, it was burning so deliciously, the stretch was so good too and the warmth was _perfection_.

Ichigo's vision blurred, white spots glimmered over the view of Grimmjow viciously fucking him. His pace was fast from the start, the espada keeping the tempo from balls deep to only the throbbing head, power behind each thrust, the teen was being pounded into the roof.

He could not help the moan that escaped his mouth, it was too fucking good. Losing his virginity was not as good as this, Grimmjow was pouring all of reiatsu and power into each thrust and Ichigo's own reiatsu was reacting to the dance. Fuck, yes, he would pay for it later. He would hate himself, he would curse at himself, and he would probably give himself a couple of hard smacks, but right now he did not care. He pushed away his better judgment and gave into the sea of pleasure.

Making a bold move, Ichigo reached back to grasp at Grimmjow's wrist, tightly squeezing it. "R-right there," he moaned. "Fuck, t-there!"

The espada groaned loudly, continuing to thrust his cock against that sweet nub deep inside of Ichigo. It was melting Ichigo into a pile of what could only be arousal and sedation. Squeezing around Grimmjow tightly, the redhead threw his head back, arching his back as his dick released his orgasm in thick spurts of cum. His whole world had turned white, eyes closed tightly to ride out the climax. The harsh thrusts behind him never ceased, Grimmjow continued until he too moaned his name loudly and then released into the redhead, hips twitching violently.

Both of them panted heavily, trying to catch their breath, limbs felt boneless. After a few moments of only listening to the ragged breathing of Grimmjow, Ichigo crawled away, hissing at the feeling of the arrancar's length slipping out of him. He laid on the cool surface of the roof, hot body slowly coming out of his high.

Ichigo scowled, eyes shut tightly, shuddering. He was a fucking slut, he had not even been touched and somehow his body had climaxed. Grimmjow had made him cum with his dick alone. He heard the rustling of fabric, Grimmjow rising to his feet. It was still silent between them. He was sure the espada was going to start teasing him, but it continued to stay quiet. Ichigo did not care if he had to lie out here all night— he was not going to talk to Grimmjow.

"You were great-" the espada murmured. "Oh, Aizen said somethin' about callin' him when ya got the chance. Best ya do it." Ichigo seethed with anger. He barely managed to nod. "I'll let ya get yerself in yer room, midget chick is in there."

And then it was quiet again. Only the soft buzz of the garganta was heard.

The redhead rolled onto his back, staring up at the night sky. Why did he deserve this? Ichigo thought he had enough crap to deal with when becoming a substitute soul reaper, but he never imagined _this_. Now he had to deal with the king of Hueco Mundo, his nemesis. Oh how heads would roll in the Seireitei if they caught wind of this. Why couldn't he be tormented by a fellow soul reaper instead? No, his luck was so bad that it ended up being a damn espada.

Sitting up, Ichigo looked down at the bracelet. _Was now a good time? _Honestly, he would prefer never, but he did not want to be pulled back into Las Noches just because he couldn't press one measly button.

He'd rather get it over with. That was a reoccurring theme in his life— enduring things to just get them over and done with.

Fixing his clothes, tucking himself back in his pants, Ichigo stood on wobbly legs, walking toward the edge of his roof. _Here goes nothing._ He took a seat and pressed the red ruby on the bracelet.

* * *

**Oh, the writer's block I endured, but hopefully the wait was short-lived. Some parts may seem random, but they'll tie into the big picture. Nothing is ever **_**random**_**. And thank you so much to my followers, readers, reviewers, all of you! You are all wonderful. Next chapter I might switch between various POVs. I have some sort of plan, but anything goes. :-)**


	3. Trust No One

The red button blinked a couple of times. "Shit's broken." He grimaced. It was hard to admit but Ichigo expected more from the self-proclaimed king. In story books, the enemies usually had the best tools, technology, information— this wasn't a story or a fairytale. This was Ichigo's life.

Unfortunately.

Everything fell to a silence. The redhead narrowed his eyes and scowled at the bracelet. He threw his arm out with a loud curse, the damned thing rattled. He stopped scowling, eyes widened. A white aura spread from the button, engulfing Ichigo, diffusing to the space around his body to form a sphere. The force field pulsed with life. The translucent orb glowed and slowly decayed to appear completely transparent.

Ichigo wasn't pleased. The orb felt _ominous_, threatening and anything along those lines.

"Good evening, Kurosaki Ichigo."

A poised voice rose from the bracelet, the button was no longer blinking but kept shining.

"So it does work," he muttered under his breath. Ichigo blinked and blinked some more. The redhead had no idea how he wanted to respond. It felt like some horrible nightmare to be casually talking to his nemesis but who was he to complain— he had an arrancar's dick up his ass not too long ago.

He suddenly replied, trying not to sound_ too_ irritated.

"Hey."

Curt and quick. He wasn't the one expected to make conversation if you asked him.

"I am aware you must be confused, conflicted, infuriated," the shinigami sounded extremely pleased. _What a creep._ "May I explain and relieve you of your indignation?"

That was not going to happen but whatever.

"Yea, sure, go ahead," he grumbled as his palm rubbed over his forehead. His scowl was starting to hurt. Ichigo prayed that the saying "stop making that face or it will get stuck like that" was far from reality.

The shinigami was smiling. Ichigo could _hear_ it through the line. "It has come to my attention that an espada of mine has been visiting you. Normally I would not hesitate- although I assure you I am not hesitating- to end the escapade, but—"

Ichigo bit his lip, silencing his groan. _Of course there is a fucking 'but.'_ There always was.

"— it enabled me to enact my new plan, if you will. Capture Soul Society's prized ryoka boy, use him to gather information, increase his strength and power potential, then turn him against them. It is quite simple, agreed?"

Ichigo inhaled a sharp breath. His heart stopped for a split-second. He seethed with anger, body trembling on the ledge of the roof.

"You can send your gratitude to Grimmjow. Without the Sexta, I would have met definite failure."

He was definitely going to thank Grimmjow. With his fucking fist.

And bankai.

Ichigo rubbed his temples, eyes closed to ward off the migraine. "You expect me to do this? What happens if I don't go along with your plan?" The wind howled, his spot on the roof was becoming colder. Ichigo yearned for his blanket. He wanted to rest and forget everything. He'd probably be just as satisfied if he was struck down to ashes but he guessed his luck was nonexistent.

"You will not reject this plan, Kurosaki Ichigo. If we have to break you to comply, you will return to Las Noches. If that fails, well, you know what is best for you and your family." Aizen made threats sound _kind_. His voice evoked a sensation of fear, but his tone was never harsh or vicious. Aizen didn't have to be. He had a reputation that could make a grown man piss himself.

The throb in his head became unbearable. Ichigo ceased scowling to relax the muscles in his forehead. He ran his fingers across the ledge, cooling their heat with every inch they covered. The redhead didn't want to answer. He would have rejected Aizen if his family wasn't involved. But now they would be involved and become pawns to break Ichigo down more. Decisions. Decisions. None were fair— not to him. He wanted to blame Grimmjow. The stupid arrancar came to Karakura without thinking of the consequences. But why would he care? Aizen praised the blue-haired beast for fucking Ichigo.

He'd accept. Somewhere along the way he would tell Soul Society, secretly inform them of his situation and hope they would help get him out of this mess. It was his only option. He would leave out the Grimmjow part, of course.

"Understood- I accept. Whatever your next move is, let me know." Ichigo gripped the edge tightly. His knuckles protruded.

There was another smile. It probably had curled farther up Aizen's face. "Perfect. I will be contacting you in the next few days. And Ichigo," the redhead glared at the red light, "please refrain from silencing yourself when you are with Grimmjow. Gin and I quite enjoy the sounds you make."

Before the redhead could spit out a river of obscenities, the red light blinked off. The invisible orb pulsed once and shot back into the center of the bracelet.

Shifting onto his legs, Ichigo slipped down and scaled the wall until his feet met the small windowsill outside of his room. Lowering on his haunches, he slouched his shoulders and gently smoothed his hands over the glass to find the latch. He slowly opened the window and slipped inside. He released a small sigh, falling face first into the mattress.

Ichigo was too wrapped up in the warmth of his covers, the sweet caress of sheets around his cold arms, to notice the slow movement of his closet door opening or the soft click of wood meeting wood.

A loud clearing of the throat broke his delight. He shot up, blanket cascading down his body to bundle in his lap, and sat with his mouth slightly opened.

Rukia's violet irises met with his amber ones. The petite woman jumped from the shelf in one swift motion, throwing an arm in front of her and pointing a very accusing finger in his face. She closed the distant between them before Ichigo could blink.

"You're going to explain to me where you've been the past few hours," the woman barked with one hand on her hip, head tilted down to show him her glare for all its glory, her neck stern and strong. There was no disaster, natural or not, that could tackle this woman.

She was a force to be reckoned with but Ichigo was willing to equal her stature. Hell, with his height, he could easily double it.

Knitting his eyebrows together, mouth curling into its signature scowl, Ichigo leaned closer to glare right back into those eyes. "Don't worry about it, Rukia, you're gettin' riled up for nothing!"

He raised his hands, ready to shove the woman but she quickly grabbed his wrist, blocking his vision with the limb. "What the hell is this, Ichigo? Nothing, huh?" Her skinny finger was going to press the button and Ichigo's heart started to pump wildly, adrenaline rushing.

He couldn't let her discover what power the bracelet possessed. If Rukia found out, her life would be in jeopardy. Ichigo wasn't going to play with the consequences.

Jumping onto the woman, the two tussled back and forth, grunting and growling in the struggle. He tried to pry her away from the bracelet as Rukia kept a death grip on his arm. The woman lost her balance, feet tripping over Ichigo's, and she landed on her back with a loud crash. He toppled over with her, those skinny fingers unfazed. Ichigo quickly straddled her waist and angled his arm, pulling it back. Rukia's teeth were clenched tightly, nostrils flaring when she met her demise and the redhead's arm freed.

The only sounds coming from the room were heavy pants, the two trying to catch their breath. They mustered enough energy to continue their glaring. Ichigo never thought the two would actually fight— it wasn't _really_ a fight, but it was more than their usual teasing and playful rough-housing.

Rukia was the first to break the silence. "Now I know something is up," she spoke softly. Her angry irises avoided Ichigo's, arms splayed above her head like she was ready to tap out.

Ichigo wiped his forehead with the arm that wore the bracelet. He rolled off Rukia and sat himself next to her. "Yea, well, just know I've got it under control."

"It's a reiatsu limiter. I've never witnessed them in that style before but it's very obvious. Strange thing is that… It's not suppressing your reiatsu. And what's the button for?" She blinked. Her small hand nudged his hip.

"You think it can limit my reiatsu? The button is a form of communication. I hadn't realized it could mess with my powers."

"You get it from Urahara?"

Ichigo snorted. Hat-and-clogs would've been a good excuse but he knew Rukia would ask Renji to question the eccentric man. The redhead lifted off the wood floor with his hands, crawling onto his bed, beginning to take off his shoes and socks. "Nah, it's something I picked up from a-" he swallowed, "a friend."

"Whoever this friend is, he's a jerk. You should get rid of it." Rukia gave a soft grunt and returned to his welcoming closet.

**x x x**

The redhead gave an innocuous smile, running a finger down the tanned skin of his lover's chest. The warm body stirred underneath the thin blankets and groaned softly. A hand caught his wrist, forcing it away. "Not now," the voice croaked, "got work, Ren."

"Work blows, let's call in sick," he purred. He leaned in and placed a few nips on the tattoo etched on Hisagi's cheek.

Soft lips pressed on dried ones, the kiss was sweet and tender— no tongues involved, only the soft pressure and tender nudges were needed. "True, but last time we did that your taicho doubled your workload, worked you like a dog until midnight." Hisagi sighed. "Also, you know I don't like leaving you alone with-"

"With Byakuya. I know, 'Sagi. Nothing's going on. Prude won't even look at me most days." Renji rolled off the futon. He moved around the small room to gather his clothing. It was no use trying to convince the ninth division's fill-in taicho to play hooky. Once the raven-haired male made a decision, he became as adamant as a missile coursed to target.

"I know we're not official or anything, Renji, but it seems like it. Whatever the case, I'm not comfortable with it." Hisagi was up, dressing in his usual attire, ruffled his black spiky hair and swiped the length of his jaw to examine for stubble. Deeming his face fine, he grabbed a few folders filled with new updates for Seireitei Communication Monthly from the side table.

"I'm not fuckin' him, ya goddamn know that. It's real irritatin' talking about him. Then ya say we're not together but clam up whenever he's mentioned." Renji rolled his eyes, tying the white sash around his waist. His hands pulled his long red locks into a ponytail and wrapped the black string into a knot.

Hisagi brushed past him. The raven-haired shinigami stopped at the doorway. "I don't care what you do in your private time. Go fuck whoever but I won't allow you to string me along. I know who the object of your affections is. Once you make your move, our little arrangement must end." The man didn't even blink. He glanced at Renji, nodding a goodbye and then he left for the ninth division.

"Wow," Renji whispered under his breath. He whistled lowly and headed for his own division.

_Today's turning out to be shit._

At least he had Kuchiki-taicho to look at-

_Shut the hell up, Renji! _

**x x x**

Ichigo swung his book bag off his shoulder, throwing it haphazardly across the room. He took a seat at his desk and opened up his laptop, hearing the soft buzz of the fan slowly fade. He was going to start his research paper. The topic was Japanese folklore. The students were expected to research an oral legend and dissect the meaning, discuss how it applied to its era and how it could be reconstructed to help teach an important lesson to the people of Japan today.

_Simple enough_, Ichigo mused. He lived in myths. His world was filled with shinigami, death gods, who ruled over Heaven— or maybe a better term would be the "afterlife." They fought to maintain the peace among all of the known worlds. It was a bit strange to fight for harmony through war but it mirrored the Living World. Humans resorted to solving problems with war so that sentiment was carried into the next life. Ichigo understood it too well.

Then there were hollows that came to eat the souls of the living. Hollows were created from the souls that could not reach Soul Society. These souls were lost in the fray of the Living World. Explanations for this transformation were mere guesses but the fact was these souls had outstayed their time among the living and became hollows. It was rather depressing how random this occurrence could be— innocent deceased people who longed for the afterlife were subject to become corrupt monsters. Hollows were not simply criminals in a past-life— some were young children, honorable men and women.

_Could I write about that?_ Ichigo drummed his fingers over the keys. He wasn't entirely sure when this story had been passed but most oral folktales weren't written down in history books. The redhead leaned back in his chair, arms stretching over his head while a low pop of his bones followed.

The house was relatively quiet. His father was down in the clinic. The patient load was light today but majority were elders who were far too concerned with every aspect of their health. Isshin never felt troubled when he had to constantly reassure them of their clean bill of health or explain some obscure condition they had. His dad was a good doctor, Ichigo gave him that.

Karin and Yuzu were out for the day. They set up a small soccer tournament at the local park. A few kids from Karin's school team were attending along with Jinta and Ururu. Yuzu wouldn't be playing, she would rather serve the snacks to the players and she did so with a warm smile.

The whereabouts of Rukia were pretty vague. The raven-haired woman said something about a family gathering at the Kuchiki estate. Ichigo wondered why she would attend one of those things. He remembered her ranting about how stuck up the elders were and how much they hated her. And Kuchiki Byakuya didn't seem like a good time either but he knew Rukia adored her older brother. He was the reason she was going.

His pocket vibrated, ears perking up at the sound of his ringtone. Ichigo snatched his phone and opened his new message. It was Renji.

**maybe i could come over? work cut cuz of sum royal crap **

Ichigo hummed lightly. He ran his fingers over the small keypad and replied.

_**eh don't u got sagi 2 bother **_

**ye but hes mad if u let me come over ill fill u in**

Interesing. "Fine," Ichigo breathed.

_**bring me melon bread n we got a deal **_

**deal**

An hour or two passed, Ichigo's eyes never left the screen, straining at the glare, and he was nearly halfway finished with the time-stealing paper. Saving the document, he planned to return to it later.

His dad had texted sometime during his essay writing to tell him he was going to pick up Kyouka-san's prescription. She was an older woman who lived on her own and had trouble getting around town. She arrived to the Kurosaki clinic by foot since her house was a mere two blocks away. It was very convenient for her but the pharmacy was a fifteen minute drive and roughly a two hour walk for her shuffling feet, which was not convenient for her. Isshin was a good doctor.

Ichigo was alone. He liked being alone. It was something he rarely experienced so the serene silence was much appreciated. Sadly it was too late to tell Renji to find someone else to bother since he _was _getting Ichigo melon bread. That was worth breaking the golden silence.

**x x x **

"Leave."

"But I just got here," he snickered.

The redhead's eyebrows were creased and lips pulled into a frown. "I don't give a flying fuck. Renji is coming over so your ass needs to go." Ichigo placed firm hands on his pectorals, stubbornly pushing him back out the window. Grimmjow was more than amused. The redhead was an enigma. One moment he would be scowling and quiet then the next he would be growling and brash, limbs flying everywhere. It was like a storm brewed inside of that lithe body.

"Good. Just want it quick and dirty," the espada purred. His fingers left the top of the window casing to lightly stroke the redhead's jaw-line. This earned him a flushed teen that assessed the situation with conflicted amber eyes.

Pink lips pursed, the tip of Ichigo's tongue running across his upper-lip to moisten the delicate skin. "Quick and dirty, eh?" Amber irises flickered up to meet cerulean ones. "You mean like how you got me trapped as Las Noche's slave boy? That was pretty quick and dirty." The redhead shoved harder causing Grimmjow to teeter back at the brute force. "Fuck off, Grimmjow. Last time I checked, I answer to Aizen now, so I could give two shits what you do. Got the safety of my red button." Ichigo stuck his tongue out like a five-year-old claiming the highest tower on the playground.

Grimmjow stared.

The teen was clearly unaware of how worse Aizen was. If Ichigo showed weakness and ran into those wide open arms, Aizen would not hesitate to take everything that was Ichigo— mind, body, soul and especially power. He would strip the teen of his powers and examine him down to every cell and fiber. The man yearned to learn how the gears in Ichigo worked, to figure out why his precious vizards had not obtained such power even though they possessed hollows too.

"Press the button, Kurosaki." He scratched the bone on his face with a bored expression. It was useless to try and get a good, quick fuck out of Ichigo. He said the redhead asshole would be here any moment.

Ichigo glanced at his bracelet. His eyes observed the minimal details of the metal for longer than a moment. He wasn't being erratic, quite the opposite, more calculating and silent. The redhead's lips twitched. Grimmjow didn't understand why— it was a simple yes or no, push button or don't push button.

"You know what… I'm not really mad at you," his voice was near whisper. It lowered with each word along with his ambers irises that fell on a spot underneath the windowsill. "Aizen said it was your fault, but it wasn't. He was gonna find a way to put this thing on me with or without you." The redhead laughed weakly. "Can't believe I just realized that. I'm sure he wants me to take my anger out on you, lose all my fight on you." Ichigo shifted back, hands sliding from Grimmjow's jacket to lace in his lap. "Bastard."

Ichigo was having a revelation.

He looked disappointed too as if someone had killed his cat or something like that.

The espada wasn't into the whole kissing thing but he had a strong urge to reach out and kiss Ichigo now. So he did. Grimmjow cupped his cheeks, pulling his face up, leaning in and capturing the soft, supple lips in a slow kiss. The redhead gasped quietly which allowed Grimmjow to snake his tongue inside of the hot mouth, head tilting to get a deeper angle. Ichigo finally gave a proper reaction and reached out to grab at Grimmjow's jacket, tugging the fabric forward. So what if the espada was using Ichigo while he was vulnerable— the better for Grimmjow. He had a compliant teen within reach.

The kiss progressed, teeth clashing against Ichigo's, breathless moans caught in the crossfire. Gradually the redhead reciprocated the new-found passion, his mouth devouring the tongue assaulting the roof of his mouth.

Ichigo gasped for air, head falling back and eyes opened to near slits as Grimmjow took the chance to lower his head and explore the soft skin of Ichigo's neck with his mouth.

Landing on a spot, he felt the uneven pulse beating underneath his tongue. Grimmjow chuckled deeply, nuzzling the pounding heartbeat with the tip of his nose. His teen was excited.

The redhead gripped the unruly mane of blue hair, tugging on the soft locks. "Grimmjow… Stop," Ichigo moaned. That didn't sound too convincing— especially when the redhead's hips were gyrating against him. "Remember Renji…"

_Dammit. _

He'd kill that idiot the next chance he got.

"Yer bein' so good tho…" Grimmjow's voice trailed off. A hand smoothed down the expanse of Ichigo's back as he felt his muscles quiver under the thin shirt. Ichigo steadily angled his body, rolling around to move out of Grimmjow's wandering hands. The espada reluctantly let go and returned to the windowsill.

He was perched on his haunches, side of his face tilted while he stared at Ichigo with heat and intent. Every movement the espada made was fluid and precise much like a cat. "I'll be around, second he leaves," he purred.

Smoothing out creased, misshapen clothing, Ichigo gave one nod. The teen wouldn't meet Grimmjow's eyes— he was too flustered and ashamed.

Grimmjow was eagerly waiting for the day when Ichigo became _shameless_.

* * *

**Smut in the next one for sure, sweeties (although I battled the strong urge of having Renji and Shuu go at it, trust me). I promise. Writing muse was being rather stubborn with this chapter. Also, I edited the first and second chapter (especially the first one) so you could check that out if you like. Just fixed mistakes and added a tiny bit more detail. Might also edit this one too, who knows. -whistles-**

**Please leave a review and tell me what you think so far. I'd appreciate it. **

**Thank you so much for reading! **


	4. Silent Confessions

The deck of cards slapped against the floor. Ichigo was not a master of the cards but he didn't expect Renji to be too hot either. He would have never bet Renji his entire melon bread if he knew Renji did this sort of thing on the weekends. That information shouldn't have surprised him, the shinigami was a regular at the Seireitei's bars and it was commonplace to play various card games.

Renji laughed and ripped open the package containing Ichigo's melon bread. "Yer not real bright, Ich," the shinigami said around a mouthful of bread. He waved the rest of the bread in front of Ichigo. He continued his teasing until Ichigo snapped and knocked the food out of his hand.

"Oi!" Renji pursed his bottom lip and quickly snatched the melon bread back.

"It was mine, you asshole!" Ichigo's eyes locked onto the sugary snack. His eyebrows twitched and his lips pulled into a frown. Grabbing the bread would've been easy enough but completely went against the bet. In fact, Ichigo knew he would've happily teased Renji if he had won.

"Fair's fair. Ya didn't put your heart in the cards, my friend." Renji's eyebrows wiggled as his finger tapped over the top of the deck. He moved from the floor to Ichigo's bed, plopping his butt on the edge, pressing one of his hands on the mattress behind him.

"You're more than welcome to leave," the teen scoffed. He stood up and dusted off the back of his jeans. Ichigo pulled out his swivel chair from his desk and took a seat. His leg loosely crossed over the other.

"But I didn't tell ya the shit story that's my life." Renji leaned closer to Ichigo, elbows digging into his knees to prop his chin on his hand as if he were telling Ichigo some sacred truth. One of his hands even cupped the side of his mouth to cover it from absolutely no one.

Ichigo blinked, nodding his head a little to get Renji to continue. The shinigami began to explain the argument between him and Hisagi.

The affections Renji had for his taicho weren't a secret to anyone who knew the guy, albeit to Byakuya himself. Or maybe the ceaselessly stoic taicho was faking innocence to maintain the sanctity of their taicho-fukutaicho relationship.

After the details were spilled, Ichigo rubbed his chin, thinking it over. There were so many things he could tell Renji. Was the guy positive Hisagi wasn't his boyfriend? It sounded so. Ichigo sighed and scooted the chair closer to Renji. His eyes locked with Renji's— a little fire was burning behind his amber irises.

"Two words, man, two words. Listen carefully," Ichigo cleared his throat loudly. "Angry. Sex."

Renji's jaw dropped like a fish out of water. He swiftly smacked the side of Ichigo's head— to Ichigo's approval. It was hard for Ichigo not to smack himself while he laughed loudly. Renji needed to lighten up anyway. There was no use crying over spilt milk. Renji knew Hisagi was right and there was nothing more to it.

"I'd be lucky if I'm able to touch him ever again," Renji said as he wrapped his arm around Ichigo's neck, digging his knuckles into an orange hair-covered scalp.

Ichigo pulled at the strong arm, trying to free from the noogie. He fell off the chair and landed on Renji's lap, head clasped to a hard torso and ass up in the air. His legs thrashed, grunting lowly, attempting to kick off Renji. "Let g-go, asshole," he harshly snarled as his air circulation was being cut. The shinigami's chest rose and fell with each laugh as he pressed Ichigo into the mattress.

Body squirming underneath the hold, Renji finally loosened his arm around Ichigo's neck. He smirked wildly and planted a hard smack on Ichigo's butt. The teen's eyes snapped wide open and scurried away when given the release. "The fuck are you doing?!" He glared at Renji from over his shoulder, breathing heavily as his heart pounded against his ribcage.

Renji shrugged a little. His arms rose over his head before throwing his back against the mattress, bed springs jumping underneath the abrupt force. Renji's gaze glued onto the ceiling. Ichigo stared at the man with confused eyes, wondering what the hell was going on.

"Got a'lil carried away."

"A little?" Ichigo asked with an incredulous tone.

"A lot, but really, Ichigo- what should I do?" Renji's eyebrows furrowed. "I need help, it hurts tryna think about it."

Ichigo snorted lightly. _The_ _shinigami wasn't born with a brain, that's why it hurt._ "How about you confess to your taicho after you end it with Hisagi? It's no secret you're only going to him for sex. And he's clearly telling you he has feelings for your sorry ass." Ichigo rested beside Renji. He closed his eyes and continued. "So, before he falls deeper, pull him out now. If you're gonna be fair to someone, it might as well be Hisagi."

After a couple seconds of silence, Ichigo figured Renji wasn't going to respond. He didn't blame the shinigami. It was a shitty situation to be in but Renji wasn't innocent. He had created it along with Hisagi. They just had to face the music.

"Ya think _he_ likes me?" Renji muttered, his hand lied over his mouth to muffle the words but Ichigo heard them loud and clear.

"Personally, I couldn't tell you, but it's worth a shot." Ichigo nodded. Byakuya was far from easy to read. Ichigo couldn't imagine the man expressing any form of emotion but who knows. Maybe Renji had some chance in hell. Ichigo couldn't, and wouldn't, say either way. He sat up and looked down at Renji. "What do you have to lose? If he doesn't, you can secretly laugh at him while he squirms nervously around you."

"Byakuya squirming? Love to see that." Renji uncovered his mouth to reveal a proud grin, teeth gleaming.

"But not in the way you're thinking, unless he likes you. Then who knows…" Ichigo's lips straightened into a narrow line. He blinked. "I can't picture him in bed. I can't. It'd be like sleeping with a brick."

"A _sexy_ brick."

Ichigo laughed and Renji joined. The rest of the night was spent fighting over the last pieces of melon bread and talking about other random things. Renji gave his goodbyes and flew out of Ichigo's window to return to the Seireitei.

Leaving the bed, Ichigo began to strip out of his clothing. His clothes were discarded into a heap on his chair. He would throw them in the wash later. Then amber orbs drifted to closet doors, a soft sigh passing his lips. It was strange without Rukia around, not that he would tell her but he sort of missed the petite woman. She would surely be ordering him to clean his room if she had been there. The teen wondered when she would be freed from noble duties. Not that she would have much say in those duties…

His body froze when sharp knocks struck his door.

"Ichigooooo! My beautiful son, I have come to wish you a goodnight!"

He let out a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, night, old man," he called back.

"Sleep tight and don't let those bed bugs bite your delicate skin. It can cause rashes!"

Ichigo cringed. He waited for the sound of noisy footsteps leading further down the hall. At least his dad hadn't kicked down his door and demanded to search for rashes. He wouldn't put it past Isshin.

Returning to the comfort of his bed, Ichigo slid under the covers. The world became fuzzy, eyelids fluttering to close as he slowly slipped into the sweet embrace of sleep.

**x x x**

His head whirled— mind felt like it was floating in a pool of jelly. He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry. A stir in his nether regions caused his eyes to quickly blink in rapid successions. His room was still dark and moonlight was the only source of illumination.

His body arched, although Ichigo had no idea why, and a moan escaped his lips.

Turning his heavy eyes to look between his legs, he saw a massive lump underneath his covers. Ichigo bit his bottom lip to cease the moans, a wet slippery object slithered its way to lap at his balls. _How strange._ He was too sleep-drunk to comprehend the situation at hand.

A shaky hand tugged at the blanket, scooting the offending material aside. His eyes met with dark cerulean ones. He shivered and watched Grimmjow lick the pre-cum from the slit of his cock head.

Assessing the situation to the best of his abilities, Ichigo was completely naked. He had no recollection as to how but his legs were splayed apart to give complete access to his hard manhood. Grimmjow was hunched over, pretty lips wrapped around the tip and sucking hard. His hand gripped the base and squeezed it to the rhythm of Ichigo's heartbeat. Fuck. _It felt good._

Grimmjow was creating a sex fiend out of Ichigo. His breath hitched, choking back a whimper as the espada swallowed him and began to bob his head. Electric sparks of pleasure ignited his body and he watched, through heavy eyelashes, his cock dive further into Grimmjow's mouth.

A low keen noise rose from his lungs and Ichigo pushed the espada's forehead to stifle his movements. He slowly, and a bit reluctantly, shook his head, cheeks flush and eyes closed shut not wanting to meet with Grimmjow's intense gaze.

"Kurosaki…" Grimmjow purred. "Don't do this, not tonight."

His finger flicked the dripping head causing Ichigo to shudder in some weird mix of humiliation and arousal.

"I'll a-always do this," he promised. It was a promise. Ichigo gave the beast too many reactions he loved, so, to keep some sanity, Ichigo would continue to struggle. Yes, his body would betray him during but as long as he refused in the beginning… Somehow, it eased Ichigo a little, a little was enough.

Grimmjow shrugged. He sat up between two spread thighs, white jacket dropping to the mattress. The edges of his muscles shadowed underneath the moonlight, hole in the center of his abdomen dark and void. Strong hands landed on his thighs, squeezing and dragging sharp nails down the slightly pale skin. Ichigo squirmed, averting Grimmjow's eyes and biting his bottom lip.

The espada unfolded his hakama, cloth sliding to the bed next to his discarded jacket. His hand swept over Ichigo's length to ghost over his abdomen.

"Yer life's ruined, might as well enjoy what ya can."

Ichigo sighed heavily. He could feel the bracelet weighing down his arm. He would get the damn thing off— no questions there. It was only a matter of time.

"_What I can?_" He asked, voice amused. "So you?"

"Maybe I'm the devil now, but sooner or later I'll be the savior."

"Funny," Ichigo muttered. His length had gone soft but he knew Grimmjow would have no problem remedying that. He raised his legs, thighs against his torso and hands underneath his bent knees. "Go ahead…" he said. _No point in resisting the inevitable. _"Take it."

The espada didn't even need two seconds before his mouth kissed his opening. His tongue did one, two, three swipes over the pucker and then pushed inside of the tight muscle. Ichigo felt the wetness squirm inside of him, digging deeper. It was such a foreign feeling and kind of gross if he really thought about it.

Ichigo tensed when Grimmjow added in a finger alongside his tongue. His hole was stretched further, his breathing became more ragged and abdomen clenched tightly. When the tongue was removed and replaced with two more digits, Ichigo nearly cried out but instead bucked his hips and shoved his fist into his mouth.

Grimmjow growled as he penetrated Ichigo deeper. "Sick of the family thing, gonna have to fuck ya somewhere where ya can scream next time." Ichigo answered with a shudder. He closed his eyes and gripped the sheets with his freehand. His length began to swell once more.

With a quick pull, Ichigo's opening was left to spasm from the sensation of being so empty. "No worryin', I'll give ya what ya want," the espada smirked and, with no warning, Ichigo was being stretched and filled with a hot throbbing length. Ichigo bit down hard into his knuckles and unconsciously arched to slide the length in further.

"Fuck, so tight."

Grimmjow was fully sheathed inside, balls deep and oh-so-snug. He placed his hands underneath Ichigo's knees to keep them pressed against the teen. His body lurched forward, bed groaning lowly underneath them as his cock assaulted Ichigo deeper.

Ichigo initiated the first move, lewdly rolling his hips. He didn't want to speak so his body would do all of the talking.

"Tell me."

"Ah-"

Ichigo met with cerulean eyes darkened with lust. He moved his hand from his mouth to the espada's shoulder, gripping the hard muscle.

"Tell me what ya want."

His cheeks flared with embarrassment, vision fuzzy with arousal and anger. His tongue licked over his lips to create moisture.

"Grimm-nngh –jow, I—"

"Say it again."

"Eh?"

The air from his lungs was stolen, a sharp thrust punctuating Grimmjow's request. Ichigo moaned lightly, urging the espada to continue. His length was perfectly curved to assault his prostate.

"Say it and I'll fuck ya."

_How the hell is he so composed? _

_Bastard!_

"Grimm-mmnjow," he moaned.

That's all it took— Grimmjow rocked his hips roughly and started a brutal pace. Ichigo tried to silence all of his moans and cries as fingers clawed into hard flesh and eyes slammed shut. His pleasure intensified with every strike to his prostate, making his body thrum wildly.

The rock-hard length gained speed and Grimmjow pounded straight onto his prostate, fucking him into the creaking bed and into oblivion. The espada was growling and grunting with every thrust. Those sounds were enough to drive Ichigo crazy.

Later he would deal with his mortification but, right now, he would enjoy his entire body being fucked to the very core.

Wet lips pressed on the nape of his neck, Grimmjow's teeth clamping down on his skin. He arched his back, neglected cock pushed into the void of the espada's torso. A strange tingly feeling enveloped his skin, prickling over the sensitive flesh, and with a low groan he came into the hollow hole. The feeling was just _right_.

Grimmjow's teeth seemed to sink deeper, Ichigo felt his shudder. He continued to fuck Ichigo, letting the teen ride out his orgasm. Ichigo rewarded him with a tight constriction around the base of his cock. Then, finally, the espada thrust sharply to coat Ichigo's insides with his hot seed.

Grimmjow slumped on top of him. Ichigo tried to catch his breath, placing a hand over his thrashing heart.

The redhead didn't stop himself from wrapping his other arm around Grimmjow. He would pretend this wasn't his enemy for a little while.

They both were laying, breathing loud and bodies drenched in a sheen layer of sweat. Ichigo slowly melted into the bed as his entire body fell into a sweet numbness.

"Felt weird," the espada broke the silence, voice heavy and husky.

"Hnn?"

"Yer cum in here." He gestured to his hollow hole.

"Good weird?"

"Good weird."

Ichigo chuckled. His fingers slipped down a shoulder blade to lightly trace the top of Grimmjow's hole. Some would call this affection but it wasn't… Not entirely. Ichigo was drunk with post-orgasmic bliss riddled with sleepiness. He would blame his actions on that.

The espada started to shift, unfortunately pulling off Ichigo. He began to gather his clothes.

"I'd take ya back with me, but I know ya won't go without a fight." Grimmjow snorted when Ichigo replied with a nod.

After Grimmjow left, Ichigo fleetingly raised his eyes to engrave his stare into the ceiling.

"Fuck my life."

**x x x**

A low groan rumbled out of his chest, the redhead turning over to shoo away the hand prodding at his back.

"Ichigo."

The redhead lifted his head from the pillow, blinking his eyes open. He instantly frowned. He turned back over to earn a shake of his shoulder. His father looked serious for a change but Ichigo was in no mood to be awakened from his much needed sleep. _Everyone lay off._

"Don't wanna talk," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. Ichigo didn't want to know what time it was. He wasn't sure when his ordeal with Grimmjow had ended but it was still night so he imagined not too long ago.

"Son," the man continued, "it's important."

"What is it?"

Isshin paused. His hand dropped from Ichigo's shoulder. Ichigo rolled back over to finally meet his father's eyes. Ichigo wore a scowl on his lips, showing the aggravation that marred his features. He was not happy to be awake.

His dad was knelt down next to his bed to be level with Ichigo. Yeah, this was definitely serious. Isshin's voice was never this soft under any circumstances.

"I'm not sure what you've gotten yourself into," the man chuckled softly. "You never fail to remind me of Masaki. You have her drive, yanno."

Ichigo's eyebrows crinkled. Had his old man gone mad? He frowned. "Huh?"

"There are lots of things that I haven't explained, but I'm not as dense as I look." Ichigo scoffed. Isshin simply continued to talk. "I am aware of who was in your bedroom tonight."

The redhead paled. There was no way that was possible! Ichigo was sure of it— okay, so not really sure. He didn't know how to respond, not sure if his father knew the whole truth. He wasn't going to spill anything and find out his father was oblivious to the fact. Especially if the fact was dirty and very embarrassing.

He stayed quiet.

Isshin sighed and returned to standing. He gave Ichigo a warm smile. "I'm here for you, Ichigo. I had more to say, but I might have gotten ahead of myself. Regardless, I've lost one Kurosaki and I'm not gonna lose another."

The redhead shifted onto his back. His father was acting so strange as if this situation was normal, a walk in the park. You would think the man would be in a rage, declaring war and everything. There was also the fact his father could do absolutely nothing. Like Isshin even knew who Aizen was and… How had he been able to tell Grimmjow was there? Man, he must have been hiding more than a few secrets from his family.

Deciding to leave the questions for a time when his mind was clear, Ichigo closed his eyes. "I can't do this alone," he whispered softly. So soft that he wasn't sure Isshin would hear but the older man had.

It was weird allowing someone to witness his struggle but he felt so much release. Someone other than himself now knew and, even though it was his dad, he felt somewhat safe. Ichigo hoped whatever Isshin was hiding was worthy of this crucial information, information that could easily have him killed.

"Hear you loud and clear," Isshin responded. He waved a hand at the teen and walked out of the room, door lightly closing behind him.

Ichigo was grasping for straws. He imagined telling Soul Society but that would've turned messy. There were a few shinigami there who wouldn't contain their anger and blindly cause a battle with Aizen. Unnecessary blood would be shed. And not in their favor. Maybe this was the better route. Isshin was full of surprises. Ichigo was ready to be wowed.

* * *

**Poor Ichigo (was that a speck of fluff), give the kid a break, pfft. Hopefully you enjoyed the chapter.**

**Thank you so much for reading, feel free to review. :-) **


	5. Come to Me

The rustling of fabric and the squelch of skin— Grimmjow groans gradually gained volume as his hand jerked his swollen erection. He undulated his hips and angled his head to the side, dark cyan eyes open to small slits— watching the tip of his cock grow redder and begin to leak with precum. His other hand snaked between his open thighs and tugged on his sack, playing with the sensitive skin, which caused a jolt of pleasure to shoot through his body causing him to tremble in delight.

For a split-second, he lost himself in the pleasure and wildly moaned— vigorously milking his cock, wanting that sweet climax to fully takeover his body. The muscles of his hips flexed and stretched with each thrust forward into the tight palm. "Fuck," he growled in his husky voice. A flicker of orange ruled his mind, pictures of the teen writhing and moaning for his cock drove Grimmjow closer to orgasm.

His entire body twitched violently and his eyes closed tightly as his head thrashed back onto the mattress. A few more powerful thrusts and suffocating tugs of his hand was all it took. Grimmjow started to spurt his seed in long thick streams, slipping through his fingers and some landing on his pelvis.

Grimmjow lied still, breathing ragged trying to fill his lungs with air. His chest heaved wildly as a barely moist tongue tried to dampen his dried lips. The fucking Kurosaki kid was driving him crazy. You would think how reoccurring their sex had become it would be enough, but it wasn't. Grimmjow was an insatiable beast.

He would much rather Ichigo there to pleasure him, but his hand would do on occasions like this. The espada could easily drag the teen back to Las Noches although that would create chaos between them. Grimmjow loved chaos more than the next person. He really did, but it didn't fit the plan in the scheme of things.

The espada wanted Ichigo to completely give in. He wanted that teen submissive and pliable like putty in his hands. Those annoying thoughts that made Ichigo struggle, fight back the arousal, needed to be completely rid of and Grimmjow would make sure of it.

And Grimmjow knew he had the chance. Their last encounter had ended in a warm embrace, yeah, it was half-assed, but Ichigo looked disappointed when Grimmjow retreated. It must mean there was a part of Ichigo which really wanted to give in and submit. The espada wasn't an expert with the whole "love" thing humans and shinigami had, but if those feelings caused Ichigo to submit then that was enough for Grimmjow.

_It's not like he had to return those feelings. _

He looked at Ichigo as a toy— something he could only touch and play with. So the faster he was able to get Ichigo to agree, the better it was for the espada.

After tucking himself back inside of his hakama, Grimmjow strolled out of his room. There wasn't much to do in Las Noches. It had gone rather boring since Aizen went back to preparing for war. The whole thing was a stalemate at the moment. The espada were free to do as they pleased as long as their regular duties were attended to.

Grimmjow figured he could pay the orange-haired chick a visit. She was fun to torment.

The room wasn't terribly far, so he decided to walk the long white hallways. Once at the door, he yanked it open and grey irises widened to the size of plates. She scurried her back to the nearest wall with one hand clasped over her bosom.

_Where's her damn backbone?_

He released a soft 'tch' and slammed the door shut behind him. Inching closer to the cowering woman, he looked down at her with a calculating stare— a hint of fury darkening his cerulean orbs.

There was nothing special about Inoue. She looked average besides her huge rack. Grimmjow wondered why Ichigo cared so much. Grimmjow would have forgotten the girl if he was Ichigo. She was a waste of time and energy. Her death should signify a sign of relief and be a convenience. Damsels in distress were pathetic.

Maybe Ichigo liked the woman…

The espada wondered if the teen had ever touched himself to the thoughts of Orihime. Were there nights where he would lock himself in his room, turn out all the lights, and jerk off while whimpering her name? Restless nights filled with raunchy thoughts of Orihime.

That thought disgusted him. If Ichigo had done that, he would no longer. Grimmjow wouldn't allow another person to step into Ichigo's dirty thoughts. Unacceptable.

Those thoughts needed to be tormented by Grimmjow.

Orihime whimpered in her throat when Grimmjow leant closer. She averted her eyes and squeezed her fist tighter. The girl was forgetting to breathe, her cheeks turning red from the lack of oxygen. He glared at her, eyebrows knit furiously as he slammed a hand near the side of her on the wall. The force produced a small crack in the concrete, tiny rubble falling to the ground.

"What's Ichigo to ya?"

Orihime gasped sharply as she squeaked at the mention of her friend. She attempted to move away but Grimmjow forcefully held her against the wall with his freehand.

"Ichigo-" she said in the softest of voices. Her eyes closed for a second and then she cleared her throat. "He's my friend." Her cheeks were red again but not from holding her breath.

Grimmjow noticed the change of atmosphere. He growled and gripped her shoulder tighter, knocking her back against the cold surface. She cringed— her body tensed and anticipated more. "Yer gonna fuckin' cut the 'crush' crap for him, understand?"

She nodded frantically, eyes not willing to open. Grimmjow could _smell_ the fear on the girl. She was powerless against the espada and she knew that. Grimmjow wasn't allowed to hurt her but that didn't mean he couldn't scare the hell out of her. Especially when it came to _something_ he owned.

He roughly pushed off of Orihime and walked back to the door. His whole demeanor was careless and casual— he whistled lowly under his breath with one hand hooked in the waistband of his hakama. Before exiting, he whipped his head over his shoulder and glared. "Ya even think about him in that way and you'll be dealin' with me. He's no longer Ichigo. He's _Grimmjow's _and don't forget it."

He growled and ignored her confused look as he walked out of the room.

Well, that was different. He had planned to tease and torment her but instead he had suddenly been overcome with…

_Jealousy? _

No.

He had no reason to be jealous. He was overcome with anger and only anger. Nothing more or less, it was anger in its purest form. No one was allowed to look at, think about or speak about Ichigo in such a manner. Grimmjow would kill anyone who dare try to make a move. He could care less what they meant to Ichigo.

Pulled from his thoughts, Grimmjow felt a deep stare boring holes in the back of his head. He turned around and was met with lifeless green eyes. Ulquiorra swiftly approached the door Grimmjow had just exited. He pressed his hand over the smooth surface and continued to stare at the blue-haired espada.

"What?!" Grimmjow barked.

"You shall not be allowed to see the woman alone again." He spoke with as much life as a guy ten feet under.

Grimmjow replied with a loud scoff, turning back around. "Like I give a shit, put her in her place. That's all I wanted." He lifted a hand to give a half-assed goodbye to the stoic espada.

**x x x**

Ichigo wore a look of apprehension as he trailed behind his father. It was night in Karakura. _And late._ The only lights were the ones radiating from the random streetlights and most were severely dim. A cool breeze of air hit the two walking figures which caused Ichigo to shiver lightly underneath his school uniform.

It had been an entire day since the night his father came into his room. Isshin immediately rushed Ichigo out of the house as soon as dinner was over. His sisters had given them confused looks and tried to pry but Isshin came up with some obscure excuse to get them out. Ichigo had barely been able to slip on his shoes before his father physically pulled him forward.

Buildings were beginning to become quite _familiar_. Ichigo noticed a few businesses, reading off the street signs as their journey continued. Yeah, it was really familiar.

Ichigo was correct.

They settled in front of a small shack-looking store. Ichigo's lips parted in surprise and then he jabbed his father in the back. "Why are we here? How do you know Urahara? What the hell is going on?" The questions rushed out like a roaring river. His amber irises pooled with impatience.

Isshin chuckled softly. His eyes lowered to the ground for a moment. "Ah, Ichigo, so much to explain. I guess I should start with me, eh?" Isshin stepped forward to be able to face Ichigo with a good amount of space between them. "I am well aware of shinigami and the powers they possess. I should know, I use to be apart of the Seireitei myself."

"…" Ichigo stared.

He had no idea how to react, so he let his old man continue.

The man smiled slightly. "Many decades ago, I use to be in charge of the tenth division. I was much younger then…" His voice sounded quite fond of the memories until he finished. "Anyway, through certain events, I had to be stripped of my powers and they would only be able to surface again once your mother passed away. I hope this eases some of your confusion." He smiled but it was a sad smile. His father wasn't proud.

Ichigo frowned deeply and took in a sharp breath. "You're leaving a lot of details out, old man. What does mom have to do with your powers? She had to die…" His voice trailed off. He was torn up inside, anger coursing through his veins, mind thoroughly confused. He grinded his shoe into the dusty ground before speaking again. "What the hell are you talking about? You've been hiding this from me the entire time- you know what I've been going through with Rukia and you sat back and watched," he said with irritation behind his words.

"Ichigo, I didn't have to get involved with the trials you and Rukia faced. I knew you were capable of fighting those battles." He reached out to place a palm on Ichigo's shoulder, the teen instantly flinched but then gradually relaxed. "It's different now. You need all the help you can get. I know you won't ask for it, but I am going to give it anyway." He nodded a little and then pulled away. He returned to near Urahara's shop entrance.

Ichigo released a soft sigh. His vision lowered to the ground as he tried to comprehend everything. His dad had successfully avoided the Masaki question but there would be time later to pester it out of him. He kicked the dirt lightly and shoved his hands deep inside the pockets of his pants.

Not taking much longer, Ichigo followed his old man and entered the shop. It was closed but it was prepared for their arrival.

At least he would have some of the people he could trust the most on his side. Apparently some of the strongest too.

**x x x**

Both Kurosaki men shook their heads frantically as they ignored the hot tea in front of them. Ichigo smacked a hand on the table which caused the small cups to jitter. "I'm not doing that! Change the plan, Urahara-san!" He gritted his teeth and pushed off the floor to stand. He really needed to pace around, his nerves were going haywire.

"Yeah, Kisuke, I gotta agree with my boy. That plan's shit," Isshin added.

The blond man chuckled beneath his fan as he waved it back and forth in front of his face. "You have to remember who we are dealing with. Aizen Sosuke is an enigma. You cannot challenge him with brute force." He shook his head and snapped the fan close to reveal a smug smile. He placed the fan on the table and replaced it with a cup of tea, lightly blowing on the steam. His eyes followed Ichigo as the teen walked to and fro from wall to wall. "You figure out his plan and you discover a flaw. You take that flaw and exploit it for what it's worth."

Ichigo shot a fierce look in his direction. "So I make friends with the creep?" He walked behind his father and smacked the old man's shoulder. "Tell him no, goat-face!"

Isshin glowered at the teen, rubbing the hurt shoulder before returning his attention to the shopkeeper. "Kisuke, I see what you mean, but do you think it's safe for Ichigo to get on Aizen's good side? What if he exploits my son instead?"

"Ichigo's a smart boy, he won't allow that. Look at him, Isshin!" Urahara gestured to Ichigo. "He's already so adamant. There's no way Aizen will be able to crack that barrier."

Ichigo's nostrils flared, arms tightly crossed over his chest.

"Aren't you smart, Ichigo?"

"Of course!" He retorted. "Just not convinced," he muttered and slowly returned to his seat at the table. The idea of becoming chummy with Aizen was detestable. He knew Urahara was right about the whole challenging Aizen thing. It would be useless to strike a fight without leveling the traitor's power… But did he really have to get close to Aizen? He groaned softly. He placed his elbows on the smooth surface of the table. His head hung low while his fingers rubbed at his temples.

Isshin grunted. He nudged Ichigo's shoulder. "Guess it's our only option, Ichigo." He smiled at the teen's scowl. "Oh mirroring Masaki!" He cried out happily and flung an arm around Ichigo's shoulders.

Ichigo tried to shrug his father off and caught the amused look on the shopkeeper's face in his peripheral. "Fine, jeez, just get off me!" He pushed his father away. Ichigo jabbed the top of the table with his index finger. "Exactly how do I start?"

"Live there," Urahara quickly chirped.

Ichigo groaned loudly.

"Summer's approaching, right, Ichigo?" His father questioned.

_Really, you want me to live there too?!_

Nodding his head a little, he furrowed his eyebrows. "If I live there, what are you two going to do on your end?"

Urahara smiled brightly and held a finger in front of his face. "Simple, I have a group who is ready to fight with you, Ichigo. A group of Seireitei rejects- thanks to Aizen. I say rejects, but they are quite powerful. Currently, we are working on creating gargantas to be able to freely come and go to Hueco Mundo."

"I'm gonna brush up on my skills, son." Isshin nodded with a smile that matched Urahara's. His arm rose to curl his bicep.

With a dramatic slouch, Ichigo gave in and muttered a soft "fine" while the two older shinigami laughed. "I'll do it. I guess it's safe to tell you about this bracelet." He raised his arm to show off the metal band. "It allows me to talk to Aizen whenever I want. It has the ability to take me to him and back home. Rukia also said something about it being a reiatsu limiter, but I've yet to experience that."

Urahara leaned closer to examine the bracelet. "I agree with her. It appears to be one. Quite fashionable though, I guess we can all agree Aizen has good taste."

Isshin laughed as Ichigo deadpanned, snatching his arm away from Urahara. "You've got a point. Have you seen some of the outfits they wear? I've only seen one espada my son's courting and he's got some getup." Isshin motioned over his stomach in the shape of a circle. "Hole right in the middle, but going shirtless was a great stylistic choice on Aizen's part."

"Courting?!" Ichigo asked incredulously. "The espada is _forcing _me. There is no courting going on."

Urahara and Isshin sent questioning looks at Ichigo. The teen pointed at the shopkeeper. "What's that look for? You don't even know about that!"

Laughter filled the room as Ichigo angrily stomped out. There was no further reason to put up with the teasing. Ichigo understood the plan and that was the only thing that mattered.

**x x x**

After a few formal goodbyes, Rukia exited out of the first division with a look of remorse gracing her soft features. Never did the woman think she would have to lie to the captain-commander on behalf of Ichigo. The teen owed her! Bunny erasers and notepads would be nice… She huffed and roamed the streets of the Seireitei.

A week or so ago, Ichigo confirmed her suspicions. She knew something was wrong with the teen, but he was reluctant to come clean. He pleaded her to keep silent and to request a summer leave for him from the captain-commander.

Rukia brushed a hand through her hair.

_The things she did for friendships._

She ended up in front of the river, taking a seat near the bank while her hands began to graze over the soft grass.

"Strange how things turn out," she mumbled to herself.

A swell of pain had overcome her when Ichigo explained how it began. The dirty espada who had hurt her was the one forcing Ichigo to sleep with him. The disgust she had for Grimmjow could not be properly explained. She wanted to slice him from head to toes— innards churning a bright red and dropping to the ground. He deserved a slow, agonizing death.

Rukia lied on the soft ground, black hair pooling behind her to form a soft pillow. Violet-colored irises swept over the sky. The clouds were colored a pristine white and as puffy as marshmallows. It made her think of happier things… Like white bunnies… She smiled gently.

Her faith was strong. She knew if someone had to destroy Aizen it would be Ichigo. That didn't mean she wasn't apprehensive about the idea of him living in Las Noches, but none of them would let Ichigo suffer or fail. There was not a single person who knew about the plan that didn't have Ichigo's safety at the forefront.

Ichigo had told her Urahara created a way to keep an eye on him and his vital signs without alerting Aizen. _Hat-and-clogs can do anything._ Rukia would continue to worry, but never lose hope.

**x x x**

It was strange watching the shinigami pack up his stuff. He was actually serious about this. Grimmjow sat on the edge of Ichigo's bed with a look of wonder in his eyes. The teen was currently sifting through his desk drawers to pick out various items. On his floor laid a large baggage with its front open. The teen would carelessly throw things into it over his shoulder.

A month or so had passed since he last saw Ichigo. Usually he made it a nightly thing to visit his shinigami, but Aizen had changed his Orihime duty to a desert duty. He was forced to guard the premises of Las Noches on reoccurring shifts. The task resulted in a lot of nothing and standing around but he wasn't about to upset the lord. He did that on a regular basis at espada meetings and he was soon learning some battles were best not to be fought.

Now Ichigo was proclaiming a move to Las Noches. The teen apparently told Aizen who was welcoming him with open arms. On some level, it was great for Grimmjow. His shinigami would be very accessible all hours of the day but then there was the Aizen thing… He didn't think the guy was interested in Ichigo like _that_, but he wasn't certain.

He guessed he would have to deal with it when it presented itself.

"He's not gonna let ya wear that," Grimmjow commented gruffly. The teen had moved to his closet, various clothes thrown around the room in a distraught manner. Ichigo looked over his shoulder and shook a pair of jeans in his hands.

"But these are my favorite."

"Won't be Aizen's, he's gotta whole dress code thing."

Ichigo sighed, slumping down to seat himself on the floor. He crossed his legs and pushed away a few clothes crowding the space. "You really think he'll make me wear a uniform? Sounds a little too much to me." He propped his body up on one hand pressed flatly on the wood. His head tilted to the side in question and amber irises fell on Grimmjow.

"Yea, he'll make ya. If yer pledgin' allegiance to him, yer gettin' one. I bet he's havin' it made right now." His voice careless as he shrugged. "Yer willin' to live there, but this is botherin' ya? Fuckin' weird, Kurosaki."

"It's starting to hit home…" Ichigo muttered. He gave a soft sigh. "I guess this means I don't have to pack a lot. Just boxers and stuff. How's the weather there?"

"Outside in Hueco Mundo, it's shit and full of sandstorms, but inside of Las Noches it never changes. It's the same temperature every damn day. No need for bundlin' up."

The teen nodded. He threw his entire boxer drawer into the baggage without a thought. "Guess I'm packed, huh?" He laughed at the sight. Grimmjow released a snort and stood from the bed.

He edged closer to Ichigo. The teen stiffened a little. "Ya sure about this?"

"Yea- I'll get to see Orihime?"

Grimmjow glared. He couldn't help the grab at Ichigo's collar. He yanked the teen forward, Ichigo stumbling over the luggage. "Yea, what of it? Ya gotta thing for her, shinigami?"

An expression of true confusion dominated Ichigo's face, he pulled back to get out of the grip. "No, what the fuck-" he stammered, "she's my friend, let go!" The teen struggled in the strong hold. He tried kicking at Grimmjow but the espada chose to fling him on the bed at that moment. He landed with a small 'umph' and the bed jumped on its stands.

"Ya don't wanna fuck her, right?"

Ichigo quickly sat up and grimaced. "No! Where the hell is this coming from?" He reached over to grab a pen from his desk, launching it towards Grimmjow's head. "She's my friend and that's it. I don't want to be with her. I'm not really into…" His voice trailed off and ceased as he continued to frown.

Grimmjow looked down at Ichigo with a vicious stare. "Good," he growled. "Yer not fuckin' anyone, but me. Ya got that? So don't even fuckin' think about another. If ya do, I'll fuck ya until ya can't remember a single damn thing or person."

Challenging the look, Ichigo left the bed. He hunched over the baggage to zip it closed. His body language was as stiff as a rock. He made no attempt to acknowledge Grimmjow's recent declaration. Sorta pissed the espada off, but he let Ichigo play his little game.

Ichigo patted the top of the closed luggage. "You know I'm glad I won't have to be rooming with you," he commented, trying to feign a nonchalant attitude. Grimmjow glared at the back of that orange head as he said a short 'huh' and let Ichigo go on. "Yea, Aizen's got a room for me- said it's really special too."

With a short 'tch,' Grimmjow shrugged. "Doesn't matter where he puts ya, I'll be there."

Amber eyes flicked over a shoulder, meeting Grimmjow's cerulean ones. "You'd protect me?" His voice did not waver or show fear. It was a simple question.

"From what?"

"From him." Ichigo stood tall. He rubbed his elbow gently and continued his gaze at Grimmjow. "My room's in his wing."

An uncontrollable sneer broke out of Grimmjow. Aizen had a whole wing dedicated to himself. The wing wasn't allowed to be entered without permission. Few espada had seen inside of the wing, Grimmjow included. The espada's eyes darkened, jaw set tightly. He gave one nod as his hands curled into tight fists.

Ichigo snorted. "Guess that's the reaction I was expecting." The teen waved him off. "He's not gonna lay a finger on me, don't worry."

Grimmjow had no need to be worried. He wasn't worried. He was pissed. He was pissed because of his lack of power- if Aizen did make a move on Ichigo, where would that leave Grimmjow? He would fight to the very bone but would surely meet demise. There was nothing like the anger of self-lacking— the anger of short comings, of not being powerful enough.

And the anger of his toy being snatched.

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading and leave a review if you'd like, those always help. :-)**


	6. Forgotten Room

His strong, sturdy back connected with the wall followed by a loud 'oof' and he openly smirked, lines of teeth similar to a shark's bite, at the small woman. On rare occasions, they would spar like back in their old academy days. She packed more punch then and her fighting moves were feistier— quick jabs and nasty kicks— compared to his lack of muscle and street-learned skill.

Nowadays it was different. Renji made it a point to hold back and go easy on her. He towered over her and was a wall of pure muscle which clearly juxtaposed her petite frame and stature. Maybe the saying "size doesn't matter" was true in some cases, but not this one.

She would often ridicule him, taunt him to go harder and yank his hair roughly to press him on, but he wasn't bargaining for tragedy when they sparred. Rukia could really get hurt if he used his strength to its full-potential. So he didn't. And it was okay because there were no winners or losers when they sparred. It was a simple practice between friends, something meant to get their adrenaline pumping in a safe surrounding free of a real threat.

However, if there were winners, Renji let Rukia win every time.

Like now, with his back against the wall, breathing ragged and wild, eyes shining and met with a devious grin. She bathed in her pretend triumphant with one hand on her cocked hip. Renji couldn't recall when she steadied her breathing but she sounded in better shape than he did like if she hadn't been sparring for the last thirty minutes.

"Yanno, ya never answered my question," he returned to their prior conversation before the spar started.

Rukia's eyes flickered with surprise or something close to that. The look seemed to show she hoped to avoid the topic entirely.

Rolling her neck, a crack of bones following, she stepped back from Renji and shrugged. "He wanted a break, Renji. I don't blame him. He is not officially a shinigami so he can do whatever he pleases," she wiped her forehead at sweat Renji could not see and probably wasn't there, "and I think if he has the opportunity to take a summer leave then good for him."

"Just doesn't sound like an Ichigo thing to do," he responded plainly. His leg extended forward to sooth the tingling muscles threatening to cramp, placing a hand on his lengthened kneecap and lowering his torso in a stretch. "He's all about the fight and it's hard to believe he ain't gonna fight hollows during this so-called break." He pulled out of the stretch to make air quotes around the word 'break' before he continued with the thought. "So really what's the point of a break? Unless he's literally goin' on vacation from Karakura."

Rukia pointed quickly at his last guess. "That's exactly it! He's leaving Karakura To-"

"Goin' where? For the _whole _summer too?"

Renji nearly barked in laughter at the deadpanned look on Rukia's face clearly furious underneath those violet irises. He imagined her flinging through the air like a small spider-monkey ready to claw his neck and choke him to death. But what was that about? He had the right to know about Ichigo, _their friend_, and she didn't want to dive further into the topic, actually, she wanted far away from that pool of metaphorical water. Sounded fishy to Renji, suspicious fishy.

He was not as dense as most people believed and boasted and laughed about in the bars, in the Seireitei, in the Living World…. Anywhere, alright! Renji was perceptive when it came to important things and his friends were obviously included in those important things.

Ichigo suddenly ditching Karakura duties— and he would like to add how Ichigo's family lived there and were protected by Ichigo on a regular basis— and going on vacation was completely out of character. Sure, the kid made rash decisions in the heat of battle but when something concerned his family he was less hasty and more attentive. Karakura concerned his family so why the vacation? Why risk likely danger for a measly break? Made absolutely no sense to Renji and he couldn't believe Rukia bought her own lame excuse about Ichigo for face-value.

And he didn't think she did.

She was hiding something.

The fed-up woman turned to make a march out of their designated spar-zone. He sighed heavily as his fingers scratched over his head. There was no use trying to get anything out of this chick. This short-temper so characteristic of a Kuchiki it made Renji wonder how her sister must have been when she was alive.

"Why don't you ask him yourself!" Rukia blurted out before leaving Renji alone, swirl of dust puffing underneath her trailing sandals.

He might just have to.

**x x x**

"You should refrain from raising your voice."

Ulquiorra's voice may have been monotonous but it was still condescending as if he were some royal bastard who ruled all the lands. Wasn't he the fourth? The Primera hadn't been this full of shit and he was number-freaking-one.

_You're off by three points, Ulquiorra. _

Ichigo had met each of the espada upon arrival and what he learned was numbers were important. Las Noches was a hierarchy within a hierarchy. Aizen was at the top and then everyone below fell into their own pyramid scheme.

Arrancars without numbers were drooling from the sidelines waiting for the perfect moment to snatch a position. Numbers meant strength, power and special freedoms. No one was free here but espada were able to do things that regular arrancar would have to beg for to be able to do.

Standing before the Cuatro was supposed to mean something along the lines of dangerous but Ichigo didn't give a damn. He still wielded his zanpakuto surprisingly— the sword resting on his hip— so as long as he had that then he would continue to backlash.

And he also held a grudge toward this asshole. Ulquiorra was in charge of Orihime and he had yet to see his friend. Ichigo had demanded to see her, to make sure she was okay, but Aizen coolly responded how _impatience is unattractive_ and to wait awhile longer.

_Hate this damn place._

The urge to snarl and send a smart ass remark in Ulquiorra's direction quickly died when Ichigo delved in the thought of Aizen more. That guy was creepier than the one standing in front of him. His creepy vibe came from the weird calm attitude he feigned. The man could be thrusting a sword deep into your chest, twisting your innards in all kinds of directions, and manage to look completely serene.

It gave Ichigo more than a shiver or two.

He fisted the white cloth in his hand returning to the predicament.

The problem wasn't wearing a uniform, no, the problem was the style of the uniform. It looked standard in the front: high collar, long fitted sleeves, black sash, white hakama— the works basically. However, the back was entirely cut off. No, _literally_, his back was completely exposed in the blasted thing. From his shoulder-blades to the slight curve of his lower-back, there was a cut oval where fabric should have been, or at least where Ichigo wished fabric should have been.

"Am I your duty too?" He spat and became ready to change clothes but refrained. Ulquiorra needed to leave. He wasn't stripping in front of another monster. He did that plenty of times for Grimmjow.

Ulquiorra blankly looked at him with his lips in a narrow line. He probably noticed how Ichigo wanted to change, amber eyes darting up to him and down to the uniform, since he started to walk to the door. He would grant privacy, thankfully. "You are not my duty. You are Aizen-sama's duty. I am merely here to instruct you of his uniform orders. I will not be regularly overseeing you."

Ichigo faintly released a puff of air. Knowing Ulquiorra wasn't his 'guardian' more than relieved him. Ulquiorra was as awkward as Byakuya which was not an easy feat. The taicho was so stifling you had to open the nearest window to air out the discomfort.

He'd actually prefer Byakuya.

He'd prefer anything but here.

"Alright," he decided to reply. The door closed gently once the espada stepped out. Ichigo reluctantly began to change. The uniform fit his form perfectly— the proportions snug in all the right places but not constricting— the oval cut surprisingly sat nicely on his back without being too tight to be unmovable or too loose to appear wrinkled, it actually felt natural and only slightly strange because air normally wouldn't glide over that area. It caused soft goose bumps along his spine. He would eventually get use to it but he was not excited to face the other inhabitants of Las Noches.

He was sure to get open leers and stares.

And he did.

Stepping into the unfamiliar espada meeting was like entering a coliseum full of ravenous lions, hunger-induced stares and wide open mouths ready to eat or fight or both. Well, majority of them appeared this way to Ichigo. Some mouths were blocked from view… Like the high-collared woman with her breasts practically hanging out of her cropped shirt and some guy with a weirdly shaped face adorned in a mask (but was it really a guy).

The teen stood at the far end of the table suppressing a nervous fidget. No one informed him on seating and it looked like the espada had assigned seats. The pink-haired one, who was named Szayel or something, was curiously watching him, rather obviously too.

Ichigo saw the Quinto detect Szayel's line of sight, narrowed eyes sliding toward him, "What's up with the brat?" He sneered at Ichigo, "Fuckin' take yer seat."

"Do not speak so crudely. Aizen-sama will be entering soon, fool." The woman, _Harribel_ Ichigo wracked his brain to remember, swiftly responded in a condescending tone. He had no clue if he should be happy she stood up for him or upset he wasn't able to retort on his own behave.

_Hm, never too late. _

"Who are you calling a brat?" He asked pointedly. "I have a name and you better start using it, you walking stick."

"The fuck put you in charge?"

Ichigo heard a familiar voice begin to laugh. Grimmjow jutted a thumb in Ichigo's direction after more laughter. "Kid's stronger than you, asshole. Wouldn't question his charge."

Nnoitra rolled his eyes, releasing a sharp _tch_ and leaning back into his seat. "Ain't no one stronger than me wearing that outfit. He's a fuckin' twink. Probably get along with Tesla-" he spoke vulgarly and directed a glare to Grimmjow, "and why the fuck you pickin' his side? He's not one of us."

Yeah, he fucking despised the outfit he adorned. And he was quite thankful he wasn't an actual espada! The lowest of the low— raping bastards, condescending assholes, full-of-crap mongrels.

Before he could further the obnoxious bickering, a sudden pressure blanketed over the room. The pressure felt strangely comforting; almost a soft wave enticing one deeper into the burrows but still managed to silence everyone and command focus. From the looks of the espada, it was the lord's signal and soon after Aizen gracefully made his entrance, Gin and Tousen in tow.

Ichigo instinctively took a step back, no thought behind the movement, these were his enemies and in close proximity to boot.

The arrival of Aizen was not the first time Ichigo saw him so near. They actually had a private meeting once Ichigo entered into Las Noches. It had him just as tense and on his toes as now. Aizen had this ominous aura about him and had the ability to evoke emotions of fear and apprehension in the pit of any being's stomach.

Apparently Aizen had begun to speak in the present. The smooth calling of his name didn't register until a hard reiatsu pushed his shoulders causing him to stumble on his feet, wobbling on the granite floor. He resumed a mask of indifference in hopes to fool everyone he wasn't taken aback a moment ago.

"Kurosaki Ichigo, please sit down so we can commence the meeting."

Following the open palm of Aizen, Ichigo spotted the seat conveniently placed between Aizen and Grimmjow. The blue-haired espada sported a wide grin and the lord took notice with a faint smirk on his lips.

Reluctantly, Ichigo willed his legs to move from their previous weighted position and situated in the open seat. Aizen spoke his thanks and initiated the meeting. He explained Ichigo's new arrangement as his _right-hand man _and _secret weapon_, cringe-worthy really, and then he projected a few plans for leading Las Noches into a war with the Seireitei. Baraggan questioned Ichigo's intelligence and Aizen assured them of his unwavering loyalty and the price he would pay if he were to divert from that loyalty.

Ichigo wanted to pay attention. He did. It was important to pay attention because he needed to start picking out Aizen's weaknesses but it was impossible currently… The damn espada to his right had sneakily slid a hand over the curve of his spine eliciting a small jerk and faint wince from him.

Either Grimmjow was a master of disguise and everyone was unaware of his sinister advances or they simply did not care, but Ichigo felt the urge to openly smack the offending hand away eat at him.

He hissed under his breath, darting a heated look to his side, slouching further on his elbows placed on the table to escape the monster and his lewd hand. There was nothing erotic about being felt up in front of other monsters but when brown met blue Ichigo could see the satisfaction burning in that gaze.

"What seems to be the problem, Kurosaki?"

"Uh-" Ichigo choked. So Aizen had noticed and had cared. He desperately searched his mind for remnants of whatever Aizen had recently rambled on about. "You mentioned the head captain. Are you implying he is corrupt? You didn't overtly say that, but I could only assume you meant this." He nearly breathed a sigh of relief when Aizen nodded his head and began to inform them more about the head captain, it was good he was able to conjure up a coherent diversion from the real problem.

Long fingers stimulated a tense area underneath his shoulder blade rubbing out the stress melting it into a quivering muscle. _Fuck_, he thought, _don't you moan, Kurosaki Ichigo. Don't you dare moan! _

Moments turned to minutes which seemed like hours ticking away slowly on some non-existent clock. Ichigo wished for death as Grimmjow snaked his hand lower to caress the slight dip above the cleft of his rear.

By the grace of some merciful creature, the meeting was finally over. Aizen allowed their departure and did not even request Ichigo's presence. He was free to bolt out of his seat and flee the clutches of Grimmjow and irritating personalities of the rest of the espada. And he did so happily, not giving Grimmjow one damn second of his time. The espada hot on his heels regardless, Ichigo could tell with all _five_ of his senses.

Ichigo had a room especially for him located in the depths of Aizen's wing but instead he turned the opposite corner and decided to get lost in the labyrinth that was Las Noches' hallways. Something inside warned him if he returned to his assigned room he would have to face Aizen for a third time and that sounded as unpleasant as Grimmjow's fingers had felt during the meeting.

He observed his surroundings, coming to a dead end after a long journey of his getaway, and heightened his hearing to measure any noises near. He could have sworn Grimmjow trailed him rather precisely, giving enough distance to not attract curious bystanders but not enough to lose sight of the teen, although it seemed he was gone— Ichigo feeling alone and a sense of accomplishment for successfully losing the devious espada.

Leaning against the nearest wall, Ichigo sighed for the first time, tilting his head back and closing his sullen amber eyes. The silence was welcomed and allowed him to gather fragments of whatever sanity he still had. Maybe his current actions were incomprehensible. He had slept with Grimmjow on more than one occasion and even _enjoyed _it… sometimes… Ichigo groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. So why run? In reality, Grimmjow was the only tolerable one. If Ichigo was willing to sleep with the brute without whole-heartily fighting then didn't that mean he could rely on him in this sea of monsters and slimy jackasses?

Speak of the devil, there Grimmjow was peering behind a corner trying to be inconspicuous but Ichigo noticed the electric blue easily. Casually strolling down the hall now, Grimmjow stuck both his thumbs in the hem of his hakama and continued forward until he was a few inches from Ichigo.

Ichigo watched two incisors gleam under the bright light of the hall as a feral grin etched onto Grimmjow's face. "Look what we have here," he crooned wildly, "a special delivery right in front of my door. A strawberry too- my favorite." Ichigo's eyes widened, quickly glancing over his shoulder to shoot a death glare at the door behind him. Only his fucking luck would lead him to Grimmjow's wing, what a _charming_ twist of fate. He blanched, hands curled into fists.

"Now," the espada leant closer pinning Ichigo against the door with a sturdy chest, "ya be a good boy and get your ass in that room." His incisors nipped the shell of his ear to either inflict fear or pleasure, well whichever the case, Ichigo felt a mixture of the two stewing inside his trembling form. He knew his fate, the destiny hiding behind the large white doors. A small part of him curled and cringed into a ball yearning for a dark corner to crawl to but a large part of him unraveled excessively to writhe and buck for the soon-coming sensations this espada would certainly bestow upon him.

Being torn was aggravating— he would favor to be one or the other, either hate his fate or love his fate. He didn't even care which side won as long as he didn't have internal conflicts anymore. They were exhausting and fruitless.

Without warning, he was freed from his thoughts and scooped into strong arms, bridal-style. He gasped and clutched onto Grimmjow's shoulders, squirming in the hold.

"Put me down!" He insisted. A slight red encompassed his cheeks, the embarrassing embrace made the veins in his forehead throb, narrowing his eyebrows together.

"I'll put ya down. On my bed," he said suggestively, seductively gazing into Ichigo's wide eyes causing the blush to darken. Grimmjow kicked open the door and served Ichigo to his fate waiting for him on top of white sheets.

**x x x**

Sharp teeth sunk into tender flesh, a devious tongue licking a thin line down the expanse of skin accompanied by open-mouthed kisses that were obscenely loud with wet noises. It earned him a soft moan, cut short from the clamping of teeth around knuckles, silencing whatever other noises threatened to escape. That was no surprise to him since Ichigo did say he wouldn't easily give into the carnal pleasure. Just meant Grimmjow had to work him harder to hear those pretty moans.

For a moment, he pulled back to admire the teen's back, his finger tracing down the dips and curves of the delicious muscles twitching under smooth skin, swiping over the wet marks he just made, wondering who designed this outfit because clearly they needed to thanked. Not even more than a second of encountering Ichigo's new uniform, not even a proper eyeful, it had Grimmjow throbbing in all of the right areas. He had not even been able to contain a wandering hand at the earlier espada meeting.

His teen was splayed on the bed, lower body nude but upper covered, pillow underneath his stomach to slightly lift him, knees loosely curled not yet bent, and arms propped under him to arch his back while he mouthed his fist. Ichigo physically restraining his moans was actually quite hot. Saliva was beginning to pool around the white-knuckled fist, dripping down flesh to moisten the once dry area. Amber eyes were half-lidded and staring down at the white sheets, shivers eliciting muffled whimpers and more saliva to spill.

Aside from the interesting sight, the thought of fucking this now traitor shinigami was causing him a great amount of anticipation, excitement and downright arousal. There was something so forbidden about fucking an innocent being turned bad. He couldn't explain it and wouldn't under these circumstances, his mind already in a deep haze and faraway from any form of coherent thought.

"I wanna fuck ya so hard," he growled punctuated with a nip to a shoulder blade, "make you cum by only the sheer size of my cock." He bucked into Ichigo's backside, cloth scratching over supple cheeks as his hands spread them apart to get a better sight of the tiny pucker. Ichigo seemed aroused by the way his hard cock was leaking drips of precum onto the pillow, apparently willing him to do more with silent cues.

Releasing one cheek and reaching down, Grimmjow slid his thumb over the tip of Ichigo's neglected cock, rubbing a firm pressure on the wet slit and capturing more precum at the top. Ichigo's body twitched violently, hips bucking into the touch and teeth sinking further into his fist. He better indulge in this pleasure because this would be the last time Grimmjow touched him there the entire night.

Grimmjow was going to make Ichigo cum by his cock alone. He meant that.

With that, he stroked Ichigo once, base to tip, before moving his hand away. He breathlessly laughed— his own throbbing arousal taking a hit to his breathing, or lack thereof— at the teen's disapproving groan. The teen attempted to roll over, probably to spout an earful of complaints, but Grimmjow had none of that and gripped his hips tightly, nails digging into skin surely to leave marks. At first, Ichigo flinched only to begin to squirm under his hold. He freed his fist from his mouth and shot a glare over his shoulder, eyes smothered with a mixture of lust and disdain. Grimmjow returned the look, stretching his lips into a wild smirk.

"Fuckin—nng—touch me, asshole!" Ichigo spat, shoving back into Grimmjow.

The espada could only snort before raising a hand to swiftly give Ichigo a spank, supple cheek jiggled and flushed over pink. "Shut the hell up," he replied in a husky baritone, dominance shining through every word. This was Grimmjow's room and Grimmjow's rules. Ichigo was going to have to lay there and take it like the born slut he was, whether he liked it or not.

Leaning over the teen, incisors grazing the top of his ear, he breathed lowly, "We gotta break in this new uniform of yours." He snatched the black sash around his own waist, undoing the folds of his hakama, white cloth sliding down his legs, hot erection springing from the confines and pressing on the cleft of Ichigo's ass.

Ichigo shivered below in what looked like nervousness. Did he think Grimmjow was going to take him unprepared and dry? That didn't even sound one bit appealing to the espada, sounded more like a way to get severe burns on his cock. Not attractive or enjoyable, at all.

He was merely teasing the teen. His hands eased Ichigo's hips higher and then he leaned over Ichigo again to grab at the vial perched on his nightstand.

_Gotta always have that close_.

Uncapping the top, flicking it over a shoulder, Grimmjow returned to sit on his haunches behind Ichigo, slathering his fingers in the cool liquid. The bottle was nearly finished from nights of self-pleasure— he'd have less of those now— he mused. He'd have to bother Szayel for some more of the sticky stuff. _How fun_, thoughts dripped with sarcasm.

Raking his eyes over the teen, drinking in the sight, restraining the urge to pounce, Grimmjow held his cheeks apart with one hand, revealing the pink pucker, tracing the rim with his lube-slickened finger barely pressing the tip inside to tease the tight muscle. He felt heat radiating from the area as if to urge him onward when Ichigo raised no protest or spoke not one word. Ichigo grunted lowly as his thighs trembled trying to maintain that weak resistance against Grimmjow's dominance. He'd crumble soon. His body was already halfway there.

Another eyeful of a gorgeous ass, worshipping the tantalizing skin with his lustful gaze, Grimmjow leant forward and ran his tongue over one of the mounds tracing the curve. The skin was so sinfully hot, even more heat emanating from Ichigo's asshole. He wondered if that area truly was begging for his cock despite Ichigo's swallowed noises turned to silence. While he contemplated, he continued to lick over Ichigo's skin as his middle finger ended the teasing and slipped into the tight heat— muscles constricting reflexively, coiling in on his digit and then slowly relaxing— Ichigo huffed a shallow breath and from what Grimmjow could see he was pressing his forehead into his forearm.

After an _excruciatingly_ long moment, Grimmjow slipped in another finger. He teased the tight ass, spreading his fingers, massaging into the constriction, wrist twisting, curling them in that _come hither_ motion causing Ichigo to gasp and writhe faintly under him.

He smiled over flesh, tracing his teeth over the teen's ass cheek and suddenly sinking down to take a delicious bite of his prize. Ichigo was his prize since he had worked so hard to get him. Not really, but still a prize nonetheless.

Adding a third finger to the mix, Grimmjow sucked hard on the abused pliant flesh to leave a deep mark as he fucked his fingers deeper into the tight ring of muscles which became more relaxed with each passing moment. A low whine rang into the room, Grimmjow happily receiving the sound as Ichigo lulled his head to the side, wiggling his hips just to let him know how bad he wanted cock.

Damn, this teen was too fucking much.

When he started to buck backward, it's like he wanted Grimmjow to explode right then and there. "Slut," he growled possessively over his marking and sat up on his knees.

He withdrew his fingers to earn an exasperated groan from the impatient teen below. Grimmjow rolled his eyes and laughed, taunting Ichigo, soon covering his thick cock in the slippery liquid from the now-finished bottle.

Slowly taking long strokes, gently touching the wet head of his cock against the prepared pucker with each jerk of his hand, the espada waited for those begging whimpers and moans. He knew Ichigo wouldn't verbally beg but other types of begging were more than enough for Grimmjow at this point.

Eyes trained on the teen, he saw Ichigo lift himself higher on his knees to create contact under his cock. Ichigo rolled his hips forward lewdly, pressing his crotch to the pillow and the cleft of his ass back against the slippery heated shaft, mimicking the motion of being fucked. "Fuck it," Grimmjow grunted under his breath, unsure if Ichigo heard it and not really caring if he did. The teen didn't deserve a warning after that slutty stunt. And that was all it took, _one slutty stunt_, he gripped Ichigo's hip in one hand and aligned his cock with the other. Inhaling a sharp breath, he snapped his hips forward, cock sinking into the tight heat, enveloped in contracting muscles, spreading reluctant walls, bodies connected deep— balls to ass. Ichigo slammed his fist on the mattress, drool spilling from his lips with the sudden removal of the 'gag,' and he threw his head back to give Grimmjow a nice image of his contorted face.

Grimmjow wondered how he lasted this long, just one push inside and he felt the scorching weight in his void abdomen sink erratically to his groin making his sack clench and length quiver. His teen embodied the words _wanton_ and _lewd_ and it drove Grimmjow to the very edge, hopelessly but determinedly hanging onto it for dear life.

Presently, he waited for a moment even though Ichigo was easing back on his cock. Now that Ichigo was living here, it meant he would hear the teen complain more, notorious for his upfront attitude and stubborn will, so he made sure to let the tight muscles adjust. The thought of a scowling, pissy Ichigo nagging him about a sore ass was enough to keep his hips still. Before he could simply slip away from the teen to avoid whatever vocal distastes he would spout, but it was different now. Ichigo whimpered naughtily and rocked once. "Wait," Grimmjow warned low and rough, nails clawing the skin of his hip to stop him.

Eyebrows furrowed and mind grasping for focus, _waiting and waiting_, Grimmjow breathed slowly trying to settle its previous erratic pace. His cock was throbbing inside of that deep moist heat. _More waiting._ Then he gave Ichigo what he wanted, what he knew Ichigo wanted by the way his body was shuddering and writhing for some kind of movement, rolling his hips forward once to grind their bodies and then finally pulling out to the tip and sharply plunging inside starting a steady tempo.

A continuous thrusting of barely inside to deeply sheathed, Ichigo's body sexily snug around him, walls hugged him with each entry and reentry and reentry and—

Their moans intermingled, Ichigo no longer restraining his noises, Grimmjow approving with loud guttural groans. Dancing with satisfaction, Grimmjow gradually picked up the pace which earned him curses and light chants of his name from the recipient. He could get off at the sight of Ichigo taking his cock, seeing how the pleasure crashed over and stole him like an intense solid wave, those walls constricting as if to beckon him deeper.

Blue slits, glazed, watched the point where their bodies continuously connected. He watched his cock be swallowed up by that greedy little hole repeatedly. His entire being shivered and shuddered, a jolt straight up the spine, one hand curling in the sweet flesh of Ichigo's hip and the other gripping the back of the uniform's collar, drifting his eyes to the beads of sweat prickling on the teen's expanse of revealed skin.

Ichigo moaned loudly, half-sobbed, when Grimmjow shifted his angle slightly and slammed inside, _so he found it_. More like grazed it because Ichigo was practically begging for more with those broken moans— he had honestly been too transfixed on the sight of Ichigo to think of teasing his prostate but, hey, he got it now and that was that.

"Yea, fuckin' love that, don'tcha?" Grimmjow purred, forcing his hips to work the teen harder, thrusts quick and frantic. The bed made contact with the wall, slamming back and forth repetitively. "Ya fuckin' love this cock-"

"F-fuck yes," Ichigo surprisingly moaned in a rough voice, strained from his prior broken cries. It pushed Grimmjow closer to the edge— fingers mere centimeters from losing their grip on the internal ledge— if he hadn't braced himself he would have came. He really would have.

But he didn't.

He snarled loudly, pressing his chest flush on Ichigo, forcing him down on the pillow and mattress, burying his nose in sweat-moist orange hair, sucking in the smell of sweat and sex, perfect concoction, fucking the teen harder and faster without mercy. The sounds of moans, groans, cut-off cries, bed beating the wall, mattress springs creaking all rang throughout the small room and into their ears to coax them further into climax.

"Gonna c-cum," he warned the teen.

"Nngh… f-fill me."

_It was enough. _

Ichigo squeezed him so fucking tightly, velvet walls constricting so snug to milk his cock, it was enough. The need to cum tingled nerves and pounded through veins. Need to feed this slutty hole with loads of white substance. And he did so; he violently released his orgasm into the teen. Ichigo whimpered at the warm feeling, Grimmjow's thrusts never stopped, pushing his seed in deeper and filling him up to the brim and finally his teen came too, _hard_, over the sheets, hands in fists, nails digging into skin and leaving marks, walls only getting tighter as Grimmjow rode out the last bits of his orgasm alongside Ichigo.

The two were left to deal with erratic breathing, blood pulsing inside of their ears, no energy to move yet. But Grimmjow decided it was time to slip out, shifting out and off of Ichigo with a hiss. He slumped next to the sated teen who barely could regulate his breathing let alone stop his body from trembling— aftershocks of an intense orgasm.

_Slut didn't even get touched. _

Mission accomplished.

Grimmjow smirked without Ichigo noticing and then he closed his eyes to submerge in the afterglow of sex.

After a few long moments, they fell into sweet silence eventually; Ichigo hadn't stirred once from his position, lying on his stomach on the damp sheets. Grimmjow mused over how they really had _broken in_ his new uniform. Speaking of the uniform, his thoughts trailed to the creator of said uniform. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't Aizen's design but he knew better than to act a fool. And since it was Aizen's design that meant he desired to see Ichigo's back… Yeah, it was a nice back but who the hell said Aizen could see it? Grimmjow grumbled to himself which caused Ichigo to shift and roll over, facing him.

Instead of commenting on the tirade of soft curses, he posed a different question, "Can I sleep here?"

"Eh?" Grimmjow's eyebrow shot up giving Ichigo a curious look. Ichigo's eyes held no specific intent. He genuinely looked tired. But Grimmjow could have swore the teen had his own room— a fancy one too. The espada would've considered offering Ichigo's room for them to sleep in but he wasn't allowed to enter Aizen's wing without Aizen's permission. He was well aware he'd never get permission.

"Well-?"

"Uh—" the espada scratched his arrancar bone idly, a strange habit he acquired. "Ya gonna cuddle up on me?"

"No."

_Wow, quick. _

"Good, don't like to be smothered."

Grimmjow shifted and made Ichigo move so he could snatch away the soiled blanket. Removing himself from the bed, he went to his closet, the thing was nearly empty, and retrieved his spare blanket. He returned to his spot on the bed, throwing the blanket on top of them. Ichigo moved the pillow from his lap to the head of the bed and turned it over to the clean side, settling his head down.

Grimmjow stared, almost glared, the teen noticed since he gave him a confused look. "Is there a problem?"

"Only one pillow."

Ichigo's lips made a small 'o' and released a soft _oh_ before he began to shift away from the cushion ready to sacrifice it to the espada. Grimmjow grabbed his arm, forcing him to stay put, he shook his head when Ichigo scowled in question. They were going to share this damn pillow. Sleeping without a pillow was lame and Ichigo wasn't going to go anywhere. So, yes, they would share. Grimmjow scooted closer to Ichigo's side to rest his head on the pillow, forcing the other's head down with his open palm.

"Thought you didn't want to be smothered?" Ichigo said with a snort.

Grimmjow grunted while his arm swung over Ichigo's waist, pulling him closer to give him more space on the pillow. Ichigo shifted under the new weight to get comfortable and Grimmjow let him. "Who gives a fuck?"

His eyes closed, sight free of Ichigo and full of black nothingness.

Having the teen close was fine for now. His body was too exhausted, too limp, to obey his better judgments that spewed occasionally from his mind in loud intervals trying to break through the tired haze. He used to think cuddling was for the weak— only for sappy humans and shinigami to take part in for some stupid 'love' concept. Hollows didn't cuddle especially after sex. Hollows saw sex as a mean to assert dominance and once that was over then so was further contact. Kissing, cuddling, snuggling— couple crap learned from other peoples— associated, in his culture, with weak hollows who needed fake comfort to distract from their impending death.

However, being an arrancar came with higher understanding and enlightened thought. A lower hollow might look at this and scoff, but Grimmjow knew what this meant. Being close like this meant nothing to him, his mind able to pick apart false assumptions and naïve thoughts, and it wouldn't be of his concern if it meant something to Ichigo. Hollows thought with instinct and arrancars thought with experience and context clues. In this context, there was no sappy love or roaring death, it was nothing and meant nothing.

"Not me." He heard the teen whisper near his lips, thoughts shattered to pieces now gone, and he wanted to retort how Ichigo hadn't said that before but he felt like sleeping was the better choice. So that's what he did, he slept. Free from realizations of Ichigo's pleasant warmth, free from years of hollow culture and recent exposure to human culture, free from Aizen and free to explore lands wrapped in would-be-forgotten dreams.

* * *

**Took way too long to post than planned. I know this is going to be a long fic, but dang whatever happens next is for both you and me to discover, heh. **

**Thanks for reading and the wonderful support, and please review! Definitely is encouraging and helps a lot. **


	7. Tables Can Turn

A day later, or what he assumed was a day, Ichigo found himself standing inside of a dingy grey, cramped room. The stone walls looked tattered, cracks spreading across the surface traveling to the ceiling. Barely any light filled the small space, provided from the tiny window too high to properly look outside.

So this is where they kept Orihime?

Nothing screamed comfortable about the space, from the rotting stool in the corner to the thin rusty bed on the side, but he figured they weren't treating this like a vacation for the girl. She was a prisoner and would be treated as such.

Locking her away, forgetting her in this room established yet another ploy to get her to crumble and crack under pressure. A room like this one would drive anyone insane, _insane enough to submit_, after long endless days without human contact or a glimmer of bright light.

Ichigo furrowed his eyebrows. But what did that make him?

He felt like a prisoner in his own skin but was being treated lavishly unlike her. Come on, his white silky bedroom had its own master bathroom attached to it! With a sunken bath and separate shower— the works basically. And what did Orihime have? Her room looked far from clean and Ichigo couldn't spot a bathroom anywhere near the vicinity, let alone one attached to it.

Clearly there was some favoritism going on here, but maybe Orihime hadn't pledged allegiance to Las Noches yet. Ichigo _had _sworn his loyalties to Aizen. So if Orihime had not, it would separate their situations entirely and explain the drastic differences in their living conditions.

Of course, that was Ichigo's assumption. He should have noticed how the two were brought to Las Noches under different circumstances, for different reasons but he didn't notice.

Taking a seat on the rickety stool, wood creaking underneath his weight making him slightly wince, anticipating its collapse but hoping it wouldn't, Ichigo sat in front of Orihime who was perched on her bed with two loose fists atop her knees.

After much inspection, deciding the stool would not cave in, Ichigo gave a small smile to Orihime's forlorn expression. It was an empty smile but he wanted to give the girl some ease. He had never seen her so dazed before, never seen a far-off look in her eyes before. It did not suit her pretty features and stole her usual youthful presence.

The corners of her lips twitched, possibly confused on how to react. Her grey eyes closed for a quick second and then, snapping out of her stupor, she forced a soft smile on her lips.

It seemed like they had already crumbled her happy gleaming spirit into grinded sand-sized shards, almost invisible, almost gone, but not quite.

That was his Orihime— always keeping some form of hope. No matter how small it may be. Ichigo was here now and he could sense her becoming more relaxed and optimistic for a better outcome to this horrible situation.

"So how d'ya go to the bathroom around here?" Ichigo asked in a usual gruff tone but meant to sound funny.

Orihime squeaked and clasped a hand to her chest. He eyed the questionable blush invading her cheeks. Was the question too personal? Would she pull out a hidden waste bucket from under the bed? Because if she did he was going to go ballistic—!

"Ulquiorra-san checks on me often. He takes me whenever I need to go…" Her soft grey eyes drifted to the side to fall upon nothing in particular, just away from Ichigo.

"He feed you too?"

She quickly nodded a few times. "Yes!" she chirped, "he does everything for me."

Well, that shouldn't surprise Ichigo. Ulquiorra was in charge of Orihime. Just seemed weird trying to picture the stoic espada coddling Orihime… well not coddling, but tending to her. Dare he think it, maybe even _taking care_ of her?

"Is he nice?" Ichigo scratched the side of his head; unsure if nice was the right term.

"I wouldn't say nice…" _Yeah, that's what he thought._ Her voice trailed off but her eyes met with his again. "But he doesn't treat me bad if that's what you mean, Ichigo."

"Yeah, that's what I mean." Ichigo distantly chewed on the inside of his cheek. It seemed like Orihime was okay, as okay as anyone could be after being ruthlessly kidnapped, and he wasn't certain where to take the conversation. The male never had a way with words, never was one to engage in mindless chatter, and actually preferred silence over anything else, so sitting here with her expecting eyes on him— waiting for more speech— was uncomfortable.

"I guess nobody here can be considered nice, huh?" He opted with more questions, although he knew the answer to this one.

"Mhm." Orihime pushed a few strands of orange hair behind her ear. "It's not like I haven't given them a chance. I have! But- it's hard giving your enemy a chance. They have not been the most accommodating people, but I have tried to get on their good side without turning my back on you, Ichigo."

Ichigo shrugged in response, waving off her good intentions. "They don't even deserve a chance. Don't go blaming yourself for things that can't be helped." Her niceness was refreshing, considering a lot of the assholes surrounding Ichigo, but she lacked the ability to serve it at the right times to the right people. "Making friends now will only result badly in the future when they're enemies again. So don't sweat it, Orihime."

Silence returned. They shared small forced smiles and then Ichigo broke the gaze to meander over a large crack behind her, looking like it would fall to pieces if he touched it. What would lie on the other side? Possibly a room since the wall was not positioned toward the outside.

"Ichigo," the girl lightly spoke, shifting herself to lie on the bed, long orange locks pillowing beneath her head and grey eyes mapping out the ceiling.

"Hm?"

"What… what is Grimmjow to you?"

Eyes widening, hearing heightening, he nearly toppled off the stool but caught himself with a hand flat on the floor. His amber hues narrowed and all the color from his face drained. His throat tightened and hands felt clammy. Hearing _his_ name jolted him sick. Ichigo, caught completely off guard, wondered where the question had even come from. Only a select few knew about Ichigo's situation with Grimmjow, Orihime not included.

So_ how_ did she know?

Did she know?

His mind hastily searched for answers, although really he wouldn't find one. Orihime had the answer.

Straightening up and regaining composure, Ichigo cleared his throat. "What do you mean by that, Orihime?"

Orihime, thankfully oblivious to Ichigo's little show, gently splayed an arm above her head. He watched her lips purse before she continued. "He said you are Grimmjow's and not to forget it-"

_Grimmjow's._

_Ya gotta thing for her, shinigami? _

_Ya don't wanna fuck her, right?_

_Yer not fuckin' anyone, but me. _

_Mine. _

"_Bastard_," the word barely gritted out through his teeth. Amber irises rolled, lips flat-lining, and Ichigo lifted a hand to lightly smack and cup his forehead. "You can stop there. Ignore him, he is an ignorant asshole. Delusional, too. He doesn't think before he speaks and spews out crap. I have no idea what he's talking about, but I'm not his or anybody's. I belong to myself."

Grimmjow was jealous. Stupid asshole. He liked to play it off as "angry" that his _property_ was being messed with but really Ichigo knew it was nothing but jealousy. Only jealousy could drive someone to confront another person, an innocent person who had no intentions on acting on her unrequited feelings.

There were no smoke and mirrors here. Ichigo had always been aware of Orihime's affections toward him. She made it obvious with the instant blushes heating her face and flashy, quick gestures of shyness whenever she talked to him alone. But never once had she taken the wheel to drive them a step further past friendship into something more awkward and Ichigo definitely wasn't going to either. Grimmjow was just too stupid to realize Orihime meant no harm and wasn't even a threat if she did try to cause any harm.

Not that Ichigo cared. He wasn't with Grimmjow nor was he Grimmjow's, so if someone wanted to make a move on him then it wasn't the espada's business. Taking a stand from his seat, Ichigo dusted off his behind and then threw his arms over his chest in a crossed fashion.

"I'm not gonna lie, Orihime, there is something between Grimmjow and me, but I'm handling it."

He was sure she'd question what that _something _was, but the words never left her mouth.

No words left. Ichigo swallowed lightly wondering if this reaction was in his favor or completely against him.

In the span of a few seconds, Orihime met his eyes and then simply nodded. Her gaze dropped giving off a defeated look that Ichigo hoped wasn't there. But it was. Not a good sign. And now seemed like the best time to leave.

"I've gotta go…" He stood by the door, hand gently holding the withered frame. "I'll be back later."

"Promise?" She quickly asked, bed creaking underneath her when she rose to sit up.

He glanced over his shoulder, putting on his best smile. "Of course."

**x x x**

A chill crept along the length of his spine, goose bumps prickling over his back as he tried to slip away from the hand reaching out to smooth over his skin. He could feel the palm so close that a light heat radiated from the source. Ichigo stepped forward once and dodged the gesture.

The white-haired shinigami chuckled in the background earning him a pointed glare from Ichigo. "Looks like Strawberry don't like a nice pettin'." He cringed inwardly. Man, he was in a room full of freaks.

"I was merely going to pat your back, Kurosaki. A gesture of gratitude, you do not have to fear my touch," Aizen spoke and from Ichigo's peripherals he could see a cunning smile glowing faintly in the dimly lit room. He could swear the man was practically purring out the statement, lacing his words with something more than gentle kindness.

Taking another step away for good measure, Ichigo gave Aizen a long pensive look, bordering a glare, while his hands shoved into the side openings of his white hakama. Better to keep them there rather than out in the open, urging to punch something or _someone_. "I'm good, Aizen-sama. A 'thanks' will suffice." He chuckled slowly sounding apprehensive. Who knew what would tip this guy over the edge, Ichigo certainly had no clue and Gin's laughing was not helping.

With a playful (hopefully playful) roll of his brown eyes, Aizen took a sip from his tea and motioned back to the projection in the middle of the table.

Ichigo was in an informal meeting with three other ex-soul reapers. Informal because it was impromptu, a servant retrieving Ichigo from Grimmjow's room to the usual meeting area and on arrival there was only one cup of tea prepared. There was always tea for the lord.

Aizen sat at the head of the table with Ichigo standing near his side and Gin looming behind him. Tousen was off guarding the door but listening intently to his lord.

For the past thirty minutes, they had gone over plans specifically assigned to Ichigo. He would start playing the spy soon. Aizen wanted Ichigo to request an official seat within one of the divisions (Gin merrily suggesting his Kira-kun's squad more than once) and Ichigo had to bite his tongue at the request. The idea of becoming an official shinigami did not hold any appeal to him. _Probably better than staying here all summer_, he thought, _but really somehow this feels worse. _

He knew he wouldn't betray his friends under any costs, but he felt guilty of treason already. Fucking an espada, _enjoying it_, wearing some stupid slave bracelet, agreeing to live with the enemy, speaking to the enemy nicely, doing all of this behind the Seireitei's back… Yeah, he was in deeper than he could possibly imagine. There was always the excuse of trying to find Aizen's weakness and destroying him from the inside out, but would that really excuse Ichigo's silence on the situation. He had even dragged Rukia into secrecy!

Who knew what would happen when he had to face them, knowing he was there under Aizen's command, pretending to spy and leak information back to the enemy, but in reality attempting to win his trust and find his ultimate weakness. It sounded outrageous and entirely based on faith but Ichigo trusted Urahara and his extravagant plans. This plan would work. In its own strange way, he knew it would work.

"So, does the division matter?" He questioned, the projections flickering through different scenes located in the Seireitei. Ichigo pondered the thought of how Aizen was able to get such footage but he left the question unspoken.

"I have no particular preference for the division they assign you. As long as you have a reason to be in the Seireitei, any division will be fine."

"Ah~ Ichi, ya must join Kira! He's gotta be real lonely without me there, he'd love a'lil _spunk_ in his life." Grimacing, Ichigo hoped that referred to his hearty spirit and not the obvious innuendo. But knowing Gin, it was sexual.

Gin made all of the cringes Ichigo felt seem so easy. He had never felt his skin crawl so much in one setting.

And speaking of Kira, he was in the third division, right? That sounded like wishful thinking to Ichigo. With his luck, and he had _a lot_ of that, Ichigo would be stuck in Kenpachi's division ready to pull his hair out while its notorious chaos stormed around him, or, dare he jinx himself, Kurotsuchi's division. Did he need to explain the latter? No, he didn't. His fears were justified.

"Yes, Gin, we understand how excellent it would be if Ichigo was assigned to Kira's division, but the decision is not in our hands. Now I believe I have no further information to go over. If there are no other questions, everyone is dismissed."

"Oh, one more thing, Aizen-sama. When does this start?" Ichigo wished to leave but this was important information which had not been discussed.

"Three days from now. You will put in your request tomorrow and return back to Las Noches for two days. This will give the Seireitei time to decide and make it seem like you are discussing it with your family, saying goodbyes, what have you."

"Should I inform my family?"

"That is unnecessary. They may know you are a traitor, but that does not mean they will keep my plans secret from the Seireitei. Allow them to believe you are living here."

Ichigo nodded. "Understood." Everything was happening so fast. He hadn't even been in Las Noches for more than two days and he was already getting ready to leave. Well, if the Seireitei accepted him. Although, there was no worry about that since the Seireitei had no real reason to _not_ accept Ichigo.

After formal goodbyes, the orange-haired male left the meeting room and headed straight for Orihime. She would be the first to hear this just in case he wasn't able to speak to her again before his leave.

**x x x**

Growling lips brushed the nape of his neck. He pushed the other away, one hand flat on his forehead and the other gripping his shoulder to try and escape his possessive hold. Grimmjow growled louder at the action, the growl full of pure anger, if it were a color it'd be red.

"Who the fuck does Aizen think he is sendin' you away already!"

"Like that's my fuckin' choice, get the hell off me," he grunted and forcefully threw Grimmjow back with all of his strength, sending the espada straight to the wall, colliding against the cement hard. The espada wiped the corner of his lips to clean off the drool, the gesture reminding Ichigo to wipe his own neck which was still considerably wet. And then surprisingly a menacing laugh rumbled into Grimmjow's bedroom. Ichigo's eyes widened a fraction, studying the other closely from across the room.

"Yer not usually like this, Kurosaki. Usually you'd be melting in my hands begging to be fucked like the whore you are."

_Whore?_

_Whore?_

"_Mine."_

_Fuck!_

Ichigo rose to his feet, moving from the bed to walk toward his offender with calculated strides. His eyes narrowed into mad slits, cranking an arm back and then slamming forward to connect his fist with the uncovered part of Grimmjow's jaw. It took no thought. He was seeing red, glare holding a lot of bite and body prepared to wail on the espada.

He wasn't a whore. He wasn't anyone's whore. This fate was not his doing and no one would put the blame on him. Ichigo would never allow that. His dignity would not stand to hear such utter crap. Who cared if they shared a rare embrace once every random fuck. It felt good— something to do in the afterglow following a good orgasm, but it meant nothing. It did not mean Ichigo was asking for it. Neither did the good orgasm. Ichigo knew biology, simple anatomy allowed himself to have a good orgasm. It didn't matter if it was Grimmjow or not.

Him being a whore was out of the question.

So he would stand his ground. Yes, he allowed himself to get fucked, but he would not allow the arrogant espada to blatantly disgrace his name and spread utter lies.

The only whore in this room was Grimmjow.

The back of Grimmjow's head bounced on the surface of the wall, impact so hard it teetered his body a little, and then in that half-a-second of regaining composure, he jumped forward like a burly feline, landing a swift punch on Ichigo's stomach, pulling the air from his lungs as a strong grip simultaneously forced its way around his neck, closing his trachea.

Immediately he brought a hand up to crawl at Grimmjow's hand, trying to free his neck which was losing to the tightening grip by the second, lungs ballooning inside of his chest in a panic for air. He felt his feet dangling like a ragdoll below, having been lifted from the ground, so he started to blow a tirade of kicks at the espada knocking hard ones into his sides and thighs.

Of course, the kicks meant nothing to Grimmjow's shield-like body. Ichigo felt his face contort, going red from lack of oxygen, eyes trying to stay open, not willing to succumb to unconsciousness and his hazy vision landed on Grimmjow's grinning face. The look in those wide cyan hues was manic, bloodthirsty, delighted-

His body was beginning to feel like jelly, legs weighing down the rest of him, turning his kicks into slow swaying making absolutely no contact with Grimmjow.

The espada started laughing loudly in his ears. The sound worse than a blade to the gut. Ichigo knew Grimmjow loved the look of impending death in his amber eyes. Watching him struggle, grasp for life but sliding closer to eternal sleep.

He knew Grimmjow craved to be his keeper and his killer. And the realization was disgusting.

Before Ichigo slipped into unconscious blackness, Grimmjow freed him entirely, body immediately dropping on the cold floor with a harsh impact.

An involuntary whimper slithered out of his throat as he gulped in mouthfuls of air, chest heaving wildly. Hunched over, shaking hands flat on the floor, but his head rose to keep his eyes glaring at Grimmjow. Ichigo was not going to fucking bow down and let the espada have his way. Not this time.

At this very moment, he may look and even sound like a bitch (with the stupid whimpers his body made to warn himself of danger), but his fiery amber hues would speak volumes against that notion.

He steeled himself, shoulders tensing. "D-don't you ever," he spoke between heaving pants, "fucking p-put your hands on me like that again." Despite his breathless voice, the words were venomous.

"Or what, huh?" Grimmjow mocked. Fucker laughed some more.

Ichigo was not going to acknowledge— no, more like _entertain_ him with an answer. Instead he kept his eyes locked with wild blue ones, raising his arm, forcing his quivering body to sit straighter and soon his other arm lifted too. Ichigo nearly laughed when Grimmjow's eyes widened. The espada saw what was to come next.

Pressing a tan finger to the red gem on his bracelet, translucent orb encompassing the room, Ichigo spoke clearly despite the scratchy feeling in his throat. "Aizen-sama, I need assistance."

"Is that so?" The lord purred.

A snarl left Grimmjow as he stalked closer to Ichigo who shuffled back on his knees until his back dug into the side of the bed. The espada had the fucking nerve to force his hand off the red button, pressing it again to end the transmission, orb snapping into place.

"The fuck you think yer doin'?!"

"Getting help, you maniac!" He roared, shoving Grimmjow away by his hips as he stood on his wobbly legs to challenge the espada.

"I'm the one you get help from," Grimmjow growled, gripping his collar and drawing them in closer, tips of their noses touching to initiate contact.

Ichigo jerked back. "Let go!" His hands palmed the other's bare chest, pushing and struggling to get away. After a few seconds of continuous struggle, he curled his fingers inward and deeply scratched the skin, red marks trailing after his nails and prickles of blood decorating the path.

Wait- did he just feel Grimmjow _shiver_? The espada seemed to curl forward, forehead landing on his own, a loud growl vibrating inches over his lips. He incredulously stared up at Grimmjow, the hell kind of reaction was that…!

Suddenly a hand gripped one of his hands, forcing his nails further down, edging closer to his nipple. It was already hard? The brown nub looked perky despite there being absolutely no direct stimulation.

"Fuckin' scratch me, Kurosaki. Make it hurt."

"What the hell," he murmured breathlessly. When had his voice lost its bite? When did this become sexual rather than dangerous? Fuck, Grimmjow was messing with his damn sanity.

Leave it to Grimmjow. Only Grimmjow could choke the living shit out of him in one moment and in the next miraculously twist it into some strangely erotic scratching session.

And what about Aizen— he was probably watching; Ichigo had a hunch since no one had come to save him yet.

_Fuck it. _

Hurriedly capturing those growling lips with his own, Ichigo penetrated the open mouth, his red tongue forcefully sliding over Grimmjow's tongue as his nails curled into hard pectorals, leaving even more bright red lines. One hand ventured south more to pinch a hard nipple, tugging it roughly. That earned him a loud groan and an eager espada pressing their lower bodies closer together, his arms wrapping around Ichigo's neck and clutching onto orange locks.

Their kiss became deeper, the two only breaking slightly apart whenever air was needed and Ichigo got an idea, somehow through his incoherent mind. His other hand snaked behind and down, wanting to test the waters, whilst the other continued to roll over a perky nipple. Something was different. Something about this was strange, but he was not entirely certain what it was yet. He needed to test it.

Planting his open palm on a firm mound, Ichigo groped Grimmjow's ass through his hakama. White cloth bunched between his fingers as he rhythmically squeezed the tender globe like a pulse underneath his hand. This elicited the other's hips to harshly buck forward, Grimmjow gyrating to rub his stiff length on Ichigo's thigh.

Hold on.

_Is he letting me dominate?_

* * *

**Such a short chapter, dang, but I felt like it was better to get this out there instead of continuing this long wait. After finishing it _there_, I'm very eager to write the next chapter so the wait shouldn't be terribly long. Hopefully my writer's block does not persist. It is a vicious beast. **

**Thank you so much for reading and sticking around. If got you any ideas, suggestions for future chapters ('cause trust me I make most on spot), or you simply wanna see more, lemme know with a little review or something something. Yanno, the drill. **

**Until next time! Hopefully not as long as this wait had been, heh heh. **


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